Handcuffed
by newdarlin
Summary: Donna and Harvey lose at a game and are forced to spent 24H handcuffed. - Pre-canon, set in S8A
1. Part I

**Just a little something I wrote while I was gone from twitter and all.**

**I hope you'll like it!  
**

**PS: Here the rules of the game they're playing:**

**The game is called 'The Gambler': you have to guess what card is on top of the pile. If you guess right, the gambler (the one having the pile) has to drink two shots. If you guess wrong you have to drink the difference between the card and your guess. For example, the card on top is the 8 but you say 4. Well, 8-4=4, so you have to drink 4 shots. You have two chances to guess right.**

**Two people in a row have to guess wrong to allow the gambler to pass the pile. The loser is the person who is the last gambler, and he has to drink five shots.**

**To match the fic, I just made them team up, but the rules don't change.**

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_**Part I:**_

It's stupid really. How it all started, and how all the gears worked their magic to end them in this position.

It began with, yet again, Donna's great idea of putting the original team back together for one night of fun, to reminisce the good old days as she put it. The planets all aligned themselves to let them reunite. Mike and Rachel took a trip to the city for Robert's birthday and Jessica had some undone business to attend to in the apple city, so just like that they were all back again, they couldn't let the occasion pass under their noses.

Donna took care of it all, as usual, organizing them a nice evening at his condo, made of nice food, good alcohol, great games, and to peppermint it all, she paid a visit to the coffee cart guy.

But games are never friendly when you assemble a bunch of lawyers in the same room. The rules are cruel, just as much as the play, thus the price is worth the fight, rewarding the winner highly. But at the receiving end, the losing one, the bitter taste of humiliation makes you regret to have gambled in the first place.

Here, the war was terrible, neither of the three teams playing ready to drop the bone their fangs were biting. Frenzied and endearing, they were going at it as their lives depended on it, and in a way it was.

But the risks were too scary to lose, the stakes too good for let the victory slip.

The first round goes smoothly, the people still conscious enough to do the maths and quite take great guesses, the shots aren't too violent. But sadly, for Jessica, a twelve-year-old could hold his alcohol better than Louis, and so the very tipsy lawyer makes them loose. They're the first out, and on the right path leading to defeat. Donna and Harvey are declared winners having guessed most of the cards right.

The second comes right away, alcohol starting to fuel the blood with its poison, the atmosphere is both lighter and thicker. Their behaviour more carefree, and laughter easier as the shots keep coming and hitting like a ton of bricks all of their heads. As it was foreseen, Louis makes his team go out first once again, a screaming Jessica fed by anger and scotch shooting at a complete dazed Louis, on the verge of euphoria. This time, Mike and Rachel win the game, and Donna starts to slowly fade into dizziness herself.

And then, the third and last round, hammering its sentence between the two couples still competing, Jessica and Louis, both agreed it would be better for the sake of their relationship – and Louis state- not to participate in this one. This round is the rougher one, as planned. Both teams trying to act on their divination skills, making their way towards the trophy in the raging sea of alcohol and laughter, as liquor becomes more and more difficult to swallow, burning their throats and stomachs, tearing eyes blinking and foggy brains not cooperating to think properly.

Eventually, a wasted Donna and a more than drunk Harvey guess wrong, and so become the gamblers at the worst timing ever, allowing the other couple to fly to victory, conquering the game and taking the trophy home. Shots after shots, their defeat is certain in no time, crankiness invading Harvey while Donna drinks absent-mindedly the glasses Rachel gives her, her mind already wrapping around the idea of surrender.

The youth surpassed the experience, and so their fates have never been so uncertain, knowing on whom they're now resting on.

"And you lost!" Mike shouts, all giddy by happiness and alcohol mixing. He's high on both during that moment, and he couldn't be prouder of himself.

"I took the great Harvey Specter down.", he reinsures.

"WE took down his title you mean", Rachel corrects, asking for her part of the loot in this affair, the one leading to the mentor's defeat.

"You are right hon, we did it. We beat you this time fair and square, and we _smashed _you". He's bragging, and Harvey's veins won't be able to take the building boiling long enough, well knowing what prize is to be paid for this loss. A loss he didn't see coming at all.

"Mike, you cheated!", Harvey screams, not willing to be considered as a loser just yet, "You counted the cards, don't try to deny it"

"I did no such things", Mike immediately fights back, "I won _fair and square_", he pavanes, repeating his earlier statement.

"Plus, counting the cards is no use for this game Harvey", Rachel corrects, "We're just better than you are all", mimicking her husband's tone.

"Oh, come on Harvey, you just don't wanna lose", Jessica jumps in, "Admit it, the master has been defeated"

"That's rich coming from you" he scoffs to his mentor, "Weren't you shouting at Louis not an hour ago because you lost against me?"

"You did do that", Louis confirms, dumfounded, sitting alone on Harvey's couch, "I remember you doing that".

Jessica rolls her eyes at Louis' words, brushing her earlier behaviour under the rug, "Goddamnit Harvey, just swallow the pill!", she desperately wants this to come to an end.

"And you say nothing?" he then turns to Donna, silent until now, too taken aback by their loss and what it means. She did team up with the one person who never loses in all New York when she proposed the prize, she imagined for her to use, not to undergo.

All attentions are now drawn on her as everyone is waiting for her to backup Harvey on this one. But for once she doesn't, her alcoholic blood keeping her from doing so, "What the hell would you want me to say?", her shoulder rising a bit, "Mike couldn't have cheated because, as Rach just said, it's pointless here. And even if he did cheat, there's no way in hell I'm going for another round tonight to determine a new winner or another game for that matter.", she adds not even looking at Harvey.

"So, you just… accept it?", he yells at her, not understanding one bit her surrender.

"Yes, Harvey. sometimes it's the only thing to do.", she expands, "We _lost. _And I know the word isn't familiar to you, but please just sit down and goddamn deal with it." In truth she doesn't care about he's little ego's hurt right now, because let's face it, it's also the reason why he's discussing the younger pair victory. But she's passed that, at this point, Donna just wants for the sentence to fall, so she can move on and go to sleep, already hating the huge hangover she'll have a hard time to recover from.

"She's right, Harvey. Don't try to lawyer your way out of here. We got you", Mike's teasing never-ending.

Despair in his eyes, Harvey lets himself fall into the couch next to Louis, "Alright, what do you want us to do?"

"That's more like it, old man", Mike then pats Harvey's shoulder, satisfaction plastered on his face, as he makes his way towards Harvey's bedroom with Rachel to deliberate on the fate of their friends.

Mike and Rachel were now holding everyone at their mercy. By winning the little tournament, they were given the right to ask from anyone anything and everything. It could be a question, an act, a dare, money. Everything, no boundaries. And of course, the answer 'no' is not available. With this power in their hands, no wonder Harvey and Donna were scared as shit as to what Rachel and Mike will ask out of them.

They were on a good track to being back to 'normal', whatever this means between them. The whole Paula debacle was finally behind them, the confidence settling back stronger than ever between them.

Before Paula, they were an item, having this confident role towards the other, but that blonde therapist of his only made them grew apart, Donna's new position giving them time away from one another too. But the usually shared scotch has been rarer by the weeks, just as sharing his office. Donna missed listening to his dad's records, and Harvey missed hearing her humming them. The joyful banter and easiness between them gone, along with their facility to speak up the truth, not caring for possibly vexing the other.

All of this change the inner DNA of the, surely blurry, but faithful relationship they had for years. And during this storm, the pair both had someone to go to, finding a shoulder to cry on in Mike and Rachel. The younger couple already had a place and a role to play in their lives, but Paula only made that role bigger.

And now, all of them were gone, and they were the only two left, trying as best as they could to fix the pieces of their nearness together, bringing back the old little moments of life they liked to share. The conversations freer, the behaviour less controlled, it was almost as they were their younger self once again, before the whipped cream and strawberries. Harvey slowly turned into that cocky lawyer again, not afraid to push the banter a bit further, and Donna true to herself when she mocks him for it but silently wishes his actions could match his words.

It took mike and Rachel less than ten minutes to come back with bubbly eyes and proudness smiles, too sneaky and impatient to let everyone know what they chose for them.

"Ladies and gentlemen please" Rachel begins, facing her audience all sitting on the same couch, "After examining both of your cases, we, the jury, came up with decisions matching your defeats", her grin earning matching sighs from the four defendants.

"Louis Litt", Mikes then takes the lead, "For not being able to hold your liquor, you're forbidden to drink prunies for a whole month".

The stupid smile Louis wears since the Mary-jane hit his brain is replaced in an instant by globe eyes trying to escape from their orbits and browns frowning as his face turned red like a tomato, "A WHOLE MONTH?!", he shouts, "A WHOLE MONTH?!" he repeats, jumping up from the couch, "MIKE YOU DEVIL SON OF A-"

"LOUIS", he's cut short both by Jessica and Donna, reminding him he isn't able to refuse the punishment.

"I'M SORRY" he apologizes with the same high and squeaky voice, turning to Donna and Jessica, "But a whole month is worse than torture" he starts crying. He's still furious, but at least quieter alone in his sulkiness as the party goes on.

Harvey's pathetic gaze goes from Louis to Mike, "See what you did? There is no way the firm will survive with a deprived-prunie Louis for a month".

"Come on guys, it's gonna be so much fun", Rachel cheers them up, well knowing they won't survive if she judges by Louis' sobs at the moment.

"Yeah fair enough when you know it's coming from someone who won't have to deal with the consequences of her actions" Donna argues, sarcasm hitting her, as she's already tired by the amount of energy she'll need to calm Louis, and the good amount of work his state will add to her workdays since they all know, there's no way he's going to keep the associates if the firm wants to avoid useless harassment cases.

"Jessica Pearson" Rachel goes on, "You have been found guilty of 'none camaraderie towards your teammate', and to repair the wrongs you caused him, you will have to go mudding with him before going back to Chicago", she announces.

Louis' fury, even is exhausting, remains funny to watch and is 90% of the time harmless.

Jessica's one is something else.

No wonder then that, when she hears what she has to do because she lost this stupid game, Mike tries to hide behind Rachel, not ready to face the tornado currently forming into her chest.

"You've gotta be goddamn kidding me" she sharply exhales. If she would have had guns for eyes, the young couple would be dead bodies lying on the floor at this point. Nothing goes to calm her down when Donna and Harvey's laughter reach her ears, silly grins on their face as they mock her outrageously.

"You can do it Jessica" Harvey jokes, "You just have to _swallow the pill_", he reinforces using her own words against her.

"Don't be so cocky Specter", she warns, "We will see if you're still laughing like an idiot once you'll know your dare", she slaps not even trying to hide her annoyance, when she turns her head to a more than happy Louis, already forgetting the prunie interdiction in favor of what is for him a great moment of share with his friend.

Her index pointing, "Don't smile too much Louis, I hate every moment of it already".

"Alright, alright guys", Mike tries to calm down a bit, as Harvey's and Donna's laughter subside and Jessica returns to her seat. "The cases preoccupying us next, have been tough ones", he continues, "Hard to judge separately, and since the chief of accusation for both are the same, we agreed to a commune sentence".

"Donna Paulsen and Harvey Specter", Rachel declares, "You have been found guilty of criminal conspiracy with aggravating facts since you questioned our victory. You are then both condemned to spend the next twenty-four hours handcuffed to each other".

"I'M SORRY?!"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

Both of their voices pierce the condo in perfect sync, as their incredulous eyes land on Mike and Rachel, on the verge of bursting into laughter. Jessica and Louis, on their side, don't do any efforts to hide their hilarity caused by the latter statement.

"This is a fucking joke, isn't it", Harvey vainly tries to resonate, "No guys, come on, tell us the real shit", he practically begs.

"Rachel, you can't do this to me", Donna outbids, "We're friends remember?"

"Sorry guys, this is the real prize to pay for your loss", Rachel confirms what they all already know to be the real thing, just too much drunk to properly believe in.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me", Harvey's head now resting in his hands, as the news still doesn't sink.

On the couch, Louis and Jessica have yield into never-ending giggles, their stomachs hurting, cheeks stuck into a teething smile, as their eyes are crying from happy tears, the mixture of alcohol, pot and weariness playing a big part in their amusement.

"No guys, please anything _but _this" they plead, both not willing to let that happen.

"We're not doing this. Not even in your wildest dreams Mike. I'm not fulfilling this fantasy of yours" Harvey warns, irritated.

"I'm sorry Harvey", Mike smiles, "But you're the one who said 'no can't be taken as an answer' when we started this.", reminding his friend the rules they are playing by, "So, man up _dearie_, and be happy about your fate. I could force you to go mudding with Louis too".

Harvey is on the verge to burst when he's cut off, "What will you even handcuff us with?", Donna then asks, hoping somehow this logistic issue will dissuade the vanquishers to pursue this madness.

"Oh, I'm sure Harvey has something in there to provide us what we need", Mike pesters, motioning to the bachelor's room.

"I'm NOT allowing you to tie me to him with one of his private toys", Donna threatens, causing another wave of chuckles from Jessica and Louis, bent on the couch, their arms trying to keep their belly in place, and earning her a knowing gaze from Harvey since both are very aware, he isn't into that kind of thing, preferring free hands spreading whipped cream.

"For the record puppy, I don't" Harvey informs, "So you're gonna have to find something else, or we're not doing this", his voice assured.

"I have handcuffs", Louis then jumps in between two laughs, "They're new, we never opened them", realizing he and Sheila bought some months ago for one of their foreplay, even though they never actually used them.

"Oh, you do?", Rachel coos, "How convenient! See Donna? It'll be Louis', we can tie with you those!"

"Louis I swear to God you're a dead man", Harvey's voice thickening as he sees their way out being shut down by a drunk man.

"No joke aside" Donna gives it the last chance, "How do you want us to survive a whole day together enchained by the wrists?", she questions.

"You've spent a whole decade not further than ten feet away, you sure can handle another day with him" Jessica cuts her, turning down once more of their exit way.

"It's settled then!" Mikes happily end the discussion, "Louis come with me, I'm bringing you home and I'll grab the handcuff at the same time.", he orders then, Louis following him to the door, grabbing his jacket on the way, "Won't take long, see you in an hour, max guys."

"Better enjoy your last sixty minutes of freedom, you two" Jessica adds, grabbing her coat and purse and leaving the trio to themselves.

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**Part II coming soon!**

**please leave me a review, criticism is always good!**


	2. Part II

**Part II published!**

**I hope you'll like it. Thank you for all the review and encouragment I've recieved for this story, it means a lot!**

**Good reading!**

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_**Part II:**_

They spent their last forty minutes of liberty trying to negotiate their way out of this misery with Rachel, but the lady gave them the hardest of time ever, not backing down even one second from this insanity. Talking to the goddamn Berlin wall would have had more results, as the brunette didn't even bother to acknowledge their pleads and went on in her evening drinking the remaining of scotch.

Exhausted and desperate, they quietly sat on the couch in the wait of Mike and the offending object he'll bring.

Their last hope resided in Louis being too drunk and high to remember where he and Sheila would have put the handcuffs, but this one died like the ones before when the condo's door finally opened and a cheerful Mike made an apparition into the living room, shouting "Guess who has found handcuffs?!".

Rachel greats him like he's the messiah, "You've got them?", she cheerfully asks, joining him between the kitchen counter and the couches where Harvey and Donna are sitting, heads down.

"Damn right!" he answers with the same tone, agitating the noisy metal bounds in the air like a bone for a dog.

"You're the best!", his wife declares, giving him a peck.

"Thanks honey", he smiles back at her, and then motions to the defeated pair, "So, how are our prisoners?" all cockiness in the eyes.

"Shut up Mike", Donna drastically calls at him, a vain attempt to cut his glorious wings off his back.

"Alright, let's get this over with", Harvey then says, getting up to join Mike and Rachel. Donna mimics him, more slowly though, due to the alcohol making her head spin a little. Yeah, mixing scotch with tequila tonight wasn't at all her best move, not even thinking at the joint she shared with Jessica.

All cranky, they stand before the jury, Mike presenting them what will join the duo way closer than what they'd like to for the day to come.

"Okay, which hands to you wanna be cut off?", he asks.

Harvey looks at Donna, waiting for her to do the same, but as always in this relationship, she chooses for the both of them, "Left for him, right for me".

"Why is that?", he demands, almost insulted.

"Harvey, are you sure you wanna have your good hand diminished for the next hours?", Donna argues, "Because, come on, we both know you aren't able to do anything with your left hand, might as well tied it down, having just one of them is handicapping enough, and I don't wanna spend the entire day hearing you complaining more than usual".

"Fair enough," her explanations make sense since Donna is ambidextrous, she then will have less issue dealing with the linking thing than him. Yet he can't explain the remarks he makes following suite, "Although, we both know", his voice raspier and lower than ever, "my left hand can be very skilled under certain circumstances", blaming the boldness onto the liquor.

It directly earns him Donna kicking him in the ribs with her elbow, her face turning red at the insinuation, and Mike taking a step back, a horrific look on his face, having the too real impression of having walked into a heated conversation between his parents.

"Guys, please!" he begs, "Could you at least wait until we're gone for the midnight activities?".

None of them dare to answer, afraid to turn the moment into an even more awkward one, but the troublesome Harvey put the in not fading from their faces. Only Rachel seems to enjoy the fun, looking back at Donna with the knowing and naughty gaze of the truth, trying her best to erase the mischievous grin her lips seem determined to turn into.

Mike come closer again, taking both their hands, "Geez Harvey, I knew handcuffs were turning you on, but decency isn't forbidden you know".

"Mike close those goddamn things and leave before I kick your ass, literally kick your ass", Harvey warns, his voice coming back from dirty to serious, being aware Mike is just playing what he thinks of being cupid's role.

At these words, the four of them hear the final click, sealing the bond between Donna and Harvey, still in some sort of denial regarding their linked hands. The metal is cool against their warm skin, causing some goosebumps on Donna's arm, more delicate than Harvey's muscular one. They take a minute to observe the new knot enlacing and defying this version of their tandem, strict and clear circles getting the better of their writs, contrasting with the free and undefined nearness they found each other in on the daily.

It's sharp, strong and cold, the simple artifact ligaturing who they are being a direct divergence to what they are. They can only grow stronger by moving closer and merge into one entity. They're trapped with one another, enclosed and forced to brush the other's hand, touch and feel the caresses they do such a great job avoiding. The handcuffs leave little room for intimacy for their hands, and Donna and Harvey become aware of this fact immediately after putting down their arms, the move somehow provoking Harvey's fingers to friction against Donna's palm.

Gosh those twenty-four hours are going to be harsh for their nerves.

"You good?", Rachel asks, making sure the handcuffs aren't too strictly choking the wrists of the protagonists. They want to have the fun of them, not hurt them.

"I am", Donna nods.

"Me too", Harvey confirms.

They both shake their linked hands to make sure their as comfortable as they can be.

"Doesn't seem to be that terrible", Harvey shrugs, his ego having the best of him, as he's sure the hours to come will be a piece of cake.

"Oh really?", Donna frowns at him in response.

"Yeah"

"Put your arm down again", she instructs to him. He doesn't know where she's going with that but obeys, as she lowers her arm too, "Now try to walk there", she points in the opposite direction of her spot, so he would have to distance himself from her. Once again, he does as told, and it doesn't take two steps before he feels something holding him back, keeping him from going any further. He turns to face a frustrated Donna, not having moved a bit, knowing sparkle in her eyes as she just proves her point.

"Okay we're screwed", he concludes, getting back by her side again. The handcuffs are a maximum of seven inches long. Harvey never imagined a tiny object like those could be such a pain in the ass.

Mike steps back next to his wife, giving the first look to the painting before him.

Donna and Harvey. Defeated. Drunk. Draw together.

The married couple doesn't know what gives them more satisfaction on this night. Having beaten the most powerful tandem of all New York, or having them corded together with those pathetic looks in their eyes. Most likely a mix of both. In any case, they couldn't be prouder of their success.

"Alright people", Mikes speaks again, taking his phone out of his pocket, "It is 12:34 AM, and you're officially handcuffed for the next twenty-four hours to come", he declares, "But since we aren't no monsters-"

"Wouldn't be so sure about that", Donna interrupts, but Mike arrogantly smiles at her and repeats, "Since we are no monsters, I will hide the key in your condo in case of an emergency, just give us a call we'll tell you where to get them", he instructs.

"_Real _emergency guys!" Rachel threatens, "Don't fool us, we'll know if you lie".

"Understood?" Mike presses.

The punished pair nods back, acquiring satisfied grins from their friends.

"Good. Now close your eyes while Mike hides the key", Rachel orders.

A mere ten minutes later, the keys are hidden somewhere in Harvey's condo, and the newlyweds have said their goodbyes, wishing luck for the crises to come.

It's just the two of them.

"So, what do we do now?" Harvey asks, in the wait for Donna to look at him.

"I don't know Harvey…", she sighs, clearly as lost and as tired as he is, "Wanna try to get used to this by cleaning a bit?", she nicely proposes.

"Yeah… why not" he agrees.

There isn't much to clean, just a few empty bottles here and there, along with the glasses, the plates, and their dinner, as well as the pot and the cards, have already been tidied earlier, but enough work for them to give an attempt and adopt this new way of moving as one, considering they're still slightly drunk and high.

Communication will sure be the key the couple will have to master if they were ever to survive to this.

They are very conscious of the situation at first, walking slowly to wait for the other, maintaining the perfect distance between them for the wrists not to be hurt by the irons, their steps in perfect synchronicity, as they would have been doing just that their whole lives. Carefully making their way to the coffee table, they agree to grab the glasses first, bending as one over them.

"Okay ready?" Harvey queries, looking at Donna while begging his eyes to lock on hers, vainly trying to avoid the view she offers him of her cleavage.

"On three. One-",

"Wait", he halts her, "When you say on three, do you mean at the number three, or you count until three and then we go up?"

She looks back at him with that face, her eyes asking for her if he's being serious right now.

"What?", he inquires, "We need to be specific!"

"Fine", she gives in, "On the number three, we get up and goes to the sink", she explains.

"Okay let's do this"

"One. Two. Three", and she does as plan and lifts her arm holding a glass half-filled with scotch. Unfortunately, her action is too abrupt for Harvey to keep up, still mesmerized by the freckled skin covering her chest, and what follows is the vibrant noise of shattered glass hitting the floor, as Donna's hand is stopped by the chain, causing them both a mark and for Harvey to drop what he was holding too.

"HARVEY!" Donna shouts, "We said on three for god sake!", frustration and fatigue making her lose any once of patience.

"I'm sorry Donna, but you lifted too fast! You're supposed to wait for me", he defends back, aware he's not entirely responsible for the little debacle now covering his floor.

"Your wrist is okay?", he demands then.

"Fine. Yours?"

"Good too."

Donna eyes the mess their disagreement just created, sighing with defeat at the amber liquid running on the ground towards her feet. She goes for picking up a piece of the broken glass, when she's stopped all over again by Harvey's hand, "Fuck me", she mutters almost under her breath.

Harvey sees the forlorn attitude Donna manages more or less to hide, but he knows how she feels, surely because he shares the same sentiment, he bars her from going further into cleaning, "Leave it Donna", softness invading his raspy voice.

"But you're floor?"

"Just drop it, we're too tired to do anything tonight anyway", he resonates. He knows she wants to argue and keep cleaning, that's why he insists before she gets a chance, "Come on, let's go to bed. We'll finish tomorrow", he motions towards his bedroom, fighting the instinct of taking her hand in his to lead her there.

Bed.

Together.

For a whole night.

_Close._

Yeah, there's that too…

The realization of what their situation implies hits Harvey first, as soon as the word leaves his mouth, his body freezing for a second or two, as his looks go from despondent to aghast, not daring to say a word, as he waits for Donna to take the hint lying in his pupils. And she does, and she matches his dazzlement within seconds, shoulders dropping when she knows she's too drained by this day to apprehend this particular night correctly. Donna is stalled, annoyed by the never-ending war her inside fights day after day when it comes to Harvey.

She constantly battles her more primal instincts, swallowing them as best as she can to keep this relationship afloat. Sometimes, the crusade gets the better of her, and she tries to clog the deep wounds with wine alone in the darkness of her apartment. It is what keeps her from losing any form of sanity, reminiscing what and who she's doing this for, as well as to what happens if she was ever to yield into her demons and take a piece of what she's been craving for, for over a decade.

The kiss is the living proof of the crack in her armor, and the troubling consequences of it are the hurting truth lying behind the fundamental nature of 'them'.

And so tonight, sleeping in the same bed as Harvey, while she's drunk and tired of warfare, it's all but a reassuring statement.

Harvey watches her wander a bit further into endless panic thoughts, and the sight aches his heart more than he would like to admit, the last thing he wants for her is feeling doubtful around him, even if he knows he would be lying to himself if he wouldn't admit the situation is all but normal. And God knows how he wishes it was.

"Hope you don't mind sleeping with me", he tries a joke but, the goes to the trash as soon as the words fly from his mouth, scoring him a horrified look from Donna.

"Sorry I didn't mean it to sound like…that", Harvey flusters, a bit embarrassed by it all, the footing messing with his control abilities.

"Yeah, don't worry I…I got it", Donna scoffs, seeking to erase the thick atmosphere, "And it's not like we have a choice anyway", she faintly smiles.

"No", he complies, "Thanks to the pup we don't".

On that they start moving again, walking towards the master bedroom, the tension between the couple only growing with each step. They manage quite well the little journey, mastering the two steps marking the entry with great assurance despite their current state.

They could have started to relax, and finally make their way under the cover but one more problem for the night rises at the surface.

"Donna"

"Yes Harvey?"

"How are we gonna take our clothes off?", he derides, already reluctant to the issue.

Their little party has taken place on a Saturday night, they want to avoid having to go to work with a hangover hammering the decision. They were all officially on the weekend then, only Harvey had needed to dress up for the day due to a last emergency in the early afternoon. That's why Donna is casually wearing dark blue jeans, paired with a cute pair of burgundy boots, and a large white sweater leaving her right arm sleeveless. Harvey, on the other side is still wearing his shirt, even if he tossed the jacket and tie as soon as he reached home once his work issue has been dealt with.

The thing is, with their wrist attached like that, with no way of separating them, they aren't able to take their sleeves off, or put another piece of clothing on for that matter.

"Oh shit", Donna jerks, "Well, we can take our pants off for sure, and I think I can manage to get out of my top" she explains, "But you're stuck with your shirt mister", she finishes absent-mindedly fidgeting with the collar of it.

"I'm not spending the night in my shirt Donna", Harvey warns, too desperate.

"Yeah, and how do we make that happen?", she backfires annoyed by his little prince behavior. Like she's thrilled to potentially spend the night wearing either this scratchy top or nothing at all since she opted for no bra today. No screw that, she's keeping the scratchy, "Because, the only option you have left is to cut it", she ironically proposes.

Except Harvey doesn't seem to get irony this late at night when he goes for her hand and starts wandering back into the kitchen, "Follow me, I have a pair of scissors under the sink".

"Harvey I was joking", Donna informs him.

"I know you are", he responds, opening the drawer and searching for his freedom, "Bu I'm not", he declares turning to her with the object in hands, "There's no ay in hell I sleep with this on my back, even less my whole Sunday. So, please Donna, would you just cut it?" he asks.

"You want to scissor a Tom Ford shirt because you just can't wait for twenty-four hours?" Donna then questions, wanting to be sure he's fully on board with this stupid idea.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want to do", he confirms.

"Gosh you're such a child", she then grabs the scissors from him, and without any warning, starts destroying the piece of clothing as if it was no more than a vulgar piece of paper.

After a few struggles along the way, Harvey has finally got rid of his shirt, the white t-shirt underneath for the only barrier.

"Here you go", Donna ends, giving him back the pair of scissors, "Happy?"

"More than", he nods, "Shall we?" he implies motioning to the bedroom.

"Yes please" Donna sighs in relief, "I could use the sleep right now".

They enter the bedroom once more, going to sit on the bed to take their shoes off, using only their free hands, the two others starting to suffer from their position. Once the shoes and socks are gone, they stand up again, the next logical cloth to leave being the pants.

They exchange an awkward look, neither of the two daring to make the first move, when Donna finally plunges plainly into ticklishness, the need to drift off into sleep is stronger than the embarrassment she's feeling. Harvey follows suit, because to hell all of it, they have done and gone far more away than that.

The room might be bathed in obscurity, it doesn't keep the curious eyes to glance, for neither of them. Shadows of the milky legs Donna owns makes Harvey thirsty for whipped cream, whereas Donna remembers all too well how Harvey's secured arms held her.

It is becoming all too much, their visions blurred by flashbacks from another time, what seems like another them in another life, and yet the souvenirs crystal cleared engraved in their memory. For a split second, all seems familiar, the closeness, the smells, the trust, the sweet melody of a past dying to be relieved reaching their ears, when their eyes lock once more this evening, honey meeting chocolate and yielding into the other one's soul.

The tightness built up since the handcuffs locked reaching its peak, Harvey isn't able to deal with it, and once again takes the chicken way out, materialized by the step back he makes, growing the ridiculous distance separating the two bodies.

"Should we…" gesturing to the top of the bed. Donna doesn't use words to respond, she consents with a small nod, lowering her eyes, and cursing herself for once more having allowed her mind to go down this path.

Under the covers, the lie on their backs with open eyes starring at the ceiling. Any want to sleep has faded as soon as they hit the mattress, even if silence reigns. Their linked hand resting side by side, the bed is big enough for them to have kept a significant distance without having to endure the harshness of the link.

The seconds' tick and soon become an eternity when Donna starts fidgeting in the bed, her habits of sleeping on her side kicking in. She knows she will never fall into Morpheus's arms in this position, and so, turns on her side the best she can considering the hand problem, careful not to disturb nor harm Harvey, her back now facing his side. The position might be worse than her earlier one, the need to keep her upper arm behind her hurts her.

She does the change a few times over, from her back to her side, and on her back again, before Harvey turns his face to her slightly annoyed by her constant movements, "Could you just choose a position and stick to it?"

"Sorry, I just can't sleep on my back", Donna apologizes, "And my arm hurts when I turn on my side so", she doesn't look back at him, scared they might share another profound look.

Still blaming the alcohol for what is to come, Harvey bluntly shifts his position closing the distance between them, "Lift your head", he instructs. Donna freezes at the move, surely too confounded and scared to just blink, her vain eyes giving Harvey a questioning look.

"Do you wanna sleep or not?" he then challenges. Donna doesn't push it further, still curious as to where he wants to go with this. When she indeed lifts her head from the pillow, it's only to see Harvey hovering her with all is glory, passing his left arm above her head. The gesture causes her right hand to take her rightful place on the pillow, the place she has when Donna does sleep on her side. She settles her head back onto the pillow, feeling Harvey's arm resting just over her head.

She's enclosed in Harvey's embrace, the pair spooned in the spacious bed, the clothes for only barriers, as he hopes his boxers are thick enough to prevent Donna from feeling a boner formed since he saw her without her jean on earlier. His left hand has boldly found a place on Donna's waist, his firm fingers soothing her breathing, their warm passing through the top and reverberating against her freckles.

She can feel his breath on her hair, and she wished his lips would come closer and dare to kiss her neck. Yes, she's now in her perfect position to drift off, but she isn't sure having Harvey so intimate and close will help.

Her dark pupils are wide opened, his hand calling for hers, ash she takes the last bold move of the evening.

And as she takes his hand, fingers dancing together to finally end the routine int the apotheosis of interlocking she gave him all he had been waiting for, a shiver down his spine.

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**Part III coming soon :)**

**please leave me a review, they're always very welcomed!**


	3. Part III

**Part III is here! **

**I hope you'll enjoy the chap!**

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_**Part III:**_

The gleaming day had just finished swallowing the obscure night, when Donna enters this semi-conscious state, not completely waken up, and the brain still fogged by the sleep. The steamy light landing on her cheek calls for her to open her eyes, but there is a warm frame next to her begging not to move an inch. The soft caress of a thumb on her hand, as the one strong fingers are doing on her ribs lull her to stay grounded under the sheets, her own body spooning closer, if that was even possible, into the secured arms enveloping her.

Her back gluing every inch possible of his chest, the move causes Harvey to enter the same dazzled state. His instinct for the only guide, he brings his head into the crook of her neck, while his arm draped over her chest tightens, never letting this woman go. Breathing her in, the smell intoxicating him even more, he smiles like the idiot he is, brushing his lips on the sensitive flesh of her neck, only to leave here the sweetest kiss, the taste her skin leaves on his lips were by far his favorite thing.

Lingering there a bit, he lets go of the freckles only to purr a "Mornin' beautiful," in her ears.

And if Donna wasn't fully woken up before, she sure as hell is now.

Eyes opening in a flash, her whole body tightens when she realizes with whom she is currently sharing a bed. She stops breathing for a few seconds, her memory not letting her remembering why she ended up in this position the night before.

Waking up with Harvey's essence all over her wasn't something she envisioned doing on this Sunday morning.

"Harvey," she calls gently, but her voice full of bewilderment, begging him to let her go.

"Oh shit!" he cries, eyes opening in a flash, the awkwardness of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks.

A whole sea of awareness washes over them, the closeness, the touches, the heat and the scents forming a dangerous cocktail they are both unready and unprepared to deal with on this very awkward morning.

It's all too oppressive, it's all too much.

They _need_ to distance themselves from each other, they _have to _detangle both body and mind from the influence one has on the other.

They both do a quick job of untangling their messy limbs, legs and arms going back to their owners, the holds they both had on each other go in the blink of an eye. Instantly missing the warmth, they were in mere moments ago, Donna doesn't give it too much thinking when she abruptly gets up on her side of the bed.

Harvey, him, tries vainly to roll himself on the back on his side, the only goal to increase the inches between their bodies in mind.

Although, they are missing something, of course, they are.

In the heat of the moment, in the rush to run away they have forgotten the unbreakable bond linking their wrists.

They don't hear the sharp metal sound the handcuffs make, only the gasp they both shouts when the rope reaches its maximum length extension, and so almost breaks their arms apart with the speed. Confusion guiding the action, it takes them by surprise when suddenly Donna falls back on the bed landing on her chest, when, Harvey being the stronger one, he absent-mindedly wins the battle over Donna's weaker arm, her frame hovering Harvey, her head falling just above his waistband, still covered by the sheets, her left hand on his legs.

They freeze at the action, letting sink in their failed attempt to separate, as well as trying to process they won't be able to.

It's all messy, and it goes all too fast for them to properly catch up on what's happening, none of the two dares to move yet, their linked hands ghosting their skins, as Harvey prays every god who dares exist, she doesn't see his morning wood showing up a bit.

"You alright?" he still asks, his concern for her winning over his embarrassment.

He can't see her face, the back of her head for the only view.

She daren't to turn it and look at him, when she replies a few seconds later, "I'm…good."

The enchained limbs close to his eyes, Harvey takes a look at it, their morning surprise earning them to suffer a bit more on their already marked skins, red and swollen, clearly affected by the metals. The sharp pain knocking in their wrists, he vainly tries to soothe his own bypassing his free fingers on it.

He misses Donna turning her head to see him, focusing on his hurting.

The discomfort fading, she can finally ogle over him properly, taking in a new version of her _friend_, the forbidden one. Perfect hair long is gone, his voice hoarse and low, twinkly eyes, he never looked so dashing to her. She likes that side of him, the one when he isn't wearing any armor, no mask to hide behind, his traits free from any form of law concern, eyes full of attention for his wounds. It's casual, domestic, and all she craves for if she ever admits it.

She won't, blocking her mind at her fantasies' entry, not wanting to go there and take a knife in the heart so early in the morning.

But she can't help it either, the shiny sun reflecting in his chocolate pupils, calling for her to taste them with her soul. His pouted lips seem soft, _are _soft, knowing she still can feel the mark they left mere minutes ago on her raging skin. His mane also calling for her hands to caress it, she has to watch herself if she wants to avoid, yet another embarrassing moment.

Their head hurt, thoughts dizzy and blood still contaminated by the alcohol they poisoned themselves with the night before. Hangover and tired, even though they slept better than they expected, exhausting behavior will have to be watched carefully, if they don't want to take the path leading them in the icy territory, the well-known land of buried feelings and unshared want.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" her tender voice melting his ears, a shy smile on the lips.

"Can't wait to take them off," he puffs, looking back at her.

Donna manages to sit on the side of the bed, as silence reigns the moment for a bit, only to be break free by their stomachs growling, clearly crying for food. Chuckles follow when their eyes lock, the laughter easy, humor being the only way out they seem to find.

"Wanna have some breakfast?" Harvey proposes, a faint smile painted on the lips.

Her stomach answers before her mouth do, noising again, begging for some food.

"I'll take that as a yes," Harvey laughs again, a soothing aura surrounding them.

Donna gladly accompanies Harvey is his giggles, angling her head perfectly for him to see the stray of hair falling before her eyes. And just admire her happy face lighting his heart. She never looked more astonishing than she does know, half-naked in his bed, hair messy and a smile shading the sun, the cinnamon freckles marking her pale skin.

They manage to get out of the bed without much trouble, this time taking their time to wait for the other to follow, and taking extra care of their wounded wrists, the handcuffs being a source of pain, more than they could imagine.

Donna goes to grab her jeans, before Harvey stops her, "I have a pair of sweat pants to give you if you want," he suggests, "Might be more comfortable for a Sunday than your jeans."

"Hum… Yeah sure," she accepts, a bit surprised by the gesture, but also not refusing a bit of comfort and almost happy to trade her usual yoga pants for _his _clothes.

They go into his closet, this intimate small room full of Harvey Specter-ness, his shirts hanging perfectly, next to his suits' trousers and shoes. The masculinity showing, she can't help but feel familiarity standing there, in a room radiating his presence and his aura everywhere.

He goes into a drawer underneath his casual clothes, the ones she never gets to witness on his either, and he grabs a pair of pants for both of them. They get dressed the best they could, Donna holding onto his shoulder with her right hand when her turns come, the touch not missing to remind Harvey how her hands belong on his body.

The pair then makes its way into the kitchen, looking for something eatable, purposely ignoring the mess they did and left yesterday near the couches. Not much to Donna's surprise, the fridge is very much empty for good food, only filled with some basics things as well as yesterday's leftovers. The cupboards and other drawers aren't much better either.

Closing the fridge's door, Donna empathizes, "Of course, you have nothing to eat!" the lack of food nerving her.

"I do have things to eat Donna," he torques.

"You have things to cook Harvey, that's not the same," she explains.

"To my defense," Harvey begins, "I rarely eat here. Nor cook."

Donna lifts her eyebrows then, "Cook? I doubt Harvey Specter ever holds a pen in his hand," she jokes, "You do know what a pan is, don't you?" mocking him even further.

He comes closer to her, shoulders shrugging, trying to level up his posture a bit, "Are you questioning my skills in a kitchen, Paulsen?" all cocky.

"I'm not doubting them," she responds with a lower voice, "I'm affirming they don't even exist."

"Alright, you called for the war," he claims, eyes challenged and ego commanding his next move.

He turns towards the kitchen counter, opens the left drawer and searches a bit, engulfing all of his free arms in it.

"What are you doing?" Donna asks, wondered by his sudden momentum.

"Wait for it," happy by her ignorance. He fidgets a bit more, his big smile gaining his.

"AHA," he screams his victory, grabbing two Tupperware, one of sugar and one of flour, "Here, we will see if I'm not the cooking type."

"What?" she looks at him with an amused face, "You wanna cook… now?"

"Yes," he says matter-of-factly, "Could you please grab me the butter please?" motioning to the fridge.

She does as ask still dazzled by his idea, "Harvey, you know we can't cook like this," shaking her hand to make the handcuffs clinging.

"Since when do you back down from a challenge?" he shrugs, taking the butter from her hand.

"I'm not… backing off," Donna flusters, offended, "I'm…"

"Donna it's simple," he cuts her off, "I don't have _eatable-suiting-you _food here. So, if you wanna eat either we go out like this in your diner, hangovered, handcuffed and _exposed_," confidence radiating from his toned body, "Or I can cook you pancakes, and so provide you warm food without leaving my condo and I get to prove you I do have hidden skills in the kitchen."

Weighing her options, the idea of going out like this is rapidly brushed under the rug, even if she can't help but smile at the mention of them _going out_, "Okay, fine for the homemade pancakes," she agrees. "They better be good though."

"Yes ma'am," he goes on, grabbing a bowl in the top drawer, causing his tee-shirt to reveal a bit his abs, Donna's gaze not missing the chance to admire them.

"Could you pass me a knife," he requests not looking at her, "It's in the- "

"I know where your knives are," she says like it's the most natural thing in the world. He looks at her knowing smile, reverberating it with his lips, as their hands gently brush when he takes the knife from her.

Harvey starts cutting the better under the haggard eyes of his redhead, putting it in a bowl and the microwave. He goes to weigh the sugar, as Donna manages to grab with one hand the forgotten milk and eggs in the fridge. Adding then the flour to the sugar, he slowly starts batting the bowl, Donna holding it between her hands to keep it steady. Her face close to the dough, and with Harvey's hard moves, a small drop of the mixed ingredients lands on her face and hands, the mess beginning to invade the kitchen counter.

She puffs at the small attack, quite sure he did it on purpose if judging by the mischievous gaze he gives her, not even apologizing for the flour in her red locks.

But two can play this game.

And, as Harvey turns around to grab the melted butter in the microwave, Donna inserts her hand in the flour, taking a batch in her palm, already fuming to see his face ravaged by the white substance. Three, Two, One … and Harvey doesn't even have the time to understand what is happening as a cloud is fogging his vision, grain floating all around him, landing on his hair, face, and chest.

"Donna you're going to regret this," he warns her, as her carefree laugh fills all penthouse.

"Oh yeah?" she dares, "And what are you gonna do?" mouth agape.

Her eyes half-closed by her giggles, she doesn't see him taking the still opened sugar container with his two hands, causing her to erase even more distance between their bodies. The package in the head, he doesn't waste a second to empty the whole thing on her, discharging a generous rain of sweetness he's too happy to grant her.

"SPECTER!" she screams, his laugh joining hers, creating the perfect melody, "You're such dead man!" she reposts going for the eggs, but Harvey is faster and takes them before her, lifting them above their heads out of her reach. She vainly jumps in the hope to get them, but let's face it, she's too small, and he vanquishes orbs are too proud for her ego.

"What are you gonna do now?" he provokes, spontaneously backing her against the kitchen counter, not even deranged by the sudden closeness and changing energy between them. Their eyes are as locked as their hands, and intensity they didn't even know was still possible being shared by the hazels and chocolate circles, the banter long gone with the untouched skin, as his stomach is now pressed against her own.

The witty remark she sure had in her mouth died with the carefree atmosphere, Donna is losing herself in him, drawn in hell by his presence, his aura and his smell, the three of them making her head spin and her heart melt. The coolness of the counter a clear contrast of the heat of his body, ice and fire meeting in her guts, it's an explosive sensation burning her to freeze. She can't move, she's stuck there, swearing she can see Harvey's heart is on the edge of his eyes.

He slowly lowers his arm, a shadow brushing Donna's when he puts the eggs back down, and just stares at her, his smile showing another side of him. Not the happy one, the wanting side. The scaring side.

She sees him lower his gaze to her lips, licking his own, his head slowly lowering and eyes closing. She knows what is going to happen.

"Harvey…" she pleas him, hating herself from stopping it.

He stands back almost immediately at the sound of her voice, guilt reaching his heart in an instant when he realizes what he was going to do. Not that he didn't want it, gosh he never wanted anything more in his entire life, but he hates himself for going down that road when they still are so fragile, the iron mark left by _her _kiss wounding their relationship deeper than what they'd like.

Not the right day, not the right time.

"We should… finish the pancakes," she shily proposes, begging for his hurt to leave him alone.

His hand roaming his face, he agrees in a sigh, "Yeah, we should."

They finish the cooking as they started it, their old habits having the better of them, they mastered avoiding and going on like nothing ever happened. And so, nice smiles and gleamy eyes were shared, drops of dough being thrown at each other, just because they can't help it. They moved in the kitchen perfectly, like they have been doing just that for years, the most natural thing and feeling, like nothing was blocking them or restricting their movements. And as it turned out, Harvey did know what a pan is, knew how to use it, and yeah… the pancakes were _very _eatable, the strawberries and whipped cream missing, perhaps for the better.

"Hugh, we need to clean now, don't we?" Donna states, looking back at the mess in the living room, already defeated by the thought.

"Us or the condo?" he jokes.

"Both," she chuckles.

"True."

"We created quite a mess back there," Donna motions to the kitchen over her shoulder.

"It was worth it," Harvey calmly responds, a found sound of melancholia in his voice.

"The fun was yeah…" Donna adds under a whisper, lowering her head at the statement.

They finish their plates, harmonically bringing them to the sink, before motivating themselves for the rest of the cleaning.

"Don't forget to lift on three this time," Donna cockily warns.

"Don't forget to wait for me."

If only he knew, she has been doing just that for thirteen years.

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**Part IV coming soon, **

**please leave a review :)**


	4. Part IV

**[I haven't been able to write nor post before for personal issues. I know I said on Twitter that I didn't want to write anymore, but those same personal shits taught me a lesson, I guess. I'm sorry for the wait.]**

**Part IV, now up :)**

**Some answers to questions I've been asked:**

**\- I didn't write Darvey going to the bathroom, because it was too awkward for me to do so (I tried and failed), so of course, they peed, I let your imagination work the scene.**

**\- They didn't immediately take a shower for scenario reasons, even if I agree, after the mess they made in the kitchen it would have been logical. Let's just say they like dirty ;).**

**Warning: this chapter is M-rated, care if it's not your kink, or if you're too young.**

**I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart, the persons who were there for me understood and supported me during that time. You know who you are, and I love you deeply. I owe you one.**

**This chapter never would have happened without the help of happyoreokid (go read her fics, they slay AF), gurl your excitement and words mean the world.**

**Good reading, F-**

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**_Part IV:_**

They're in the shower.

Well, not exactly. They're in the bathroom. Donna is already showered, with just a towel around her frame, and Harvey is taking his turn under the hot water, Donna's handcuffed arm engulfed in the cabin. Harvey's t-shirt is resting between them on the chain of the handcuffs.

And it's weird.

It's weird, embarrassing, awkward, endearing, tempting, and hot as fuck.

It's an opportunity to feed with some real footage the darkest fantasies her mind dares to invent. It's conjuring a whole bunch of souvenirs Donna believes are well locked down deep inside her, but still often uses to get herself off way more often than what she likes to admit (excuse her primal brain.).

But above anything else, it's not _wrong_. Or at least, it doesn't feel like it.

And it's the strangest thing concerning this situation. At no point since Mike put the handcuffs on, this little masquerade has felt wrong.

From their hands brushing, to them falling asleep in each other's arms, not to mention undressing in front of the other, it never resembled as a thing they were forced to do, but very well indeed as something they should have been doing since forever.

The fact that Donna acknowledges this wearing just a towel around her body, while Harvey is naked under the water stream is the scariest thing. She's scared shitless.

Unfortunately for her, the fear of Harvey invading her brain isn't the slightest keeping her want for Harvey at bay. At all. If something, it's only expanding it, helping the fire of her skin burning brighter and warmer for his hands and fingers.

She's blazing so much, even the water running on her best friend's body couldn't extinguish her.

Gosh she shouldn't be thinking about this. But she is.

Her vision is blurred by the stream coming from the shower mere feet away from her. The vapers are fogging everything, keeping her from thinking straight, Donna's want for this man too much to be fought.

She's all hot and bothered, and _wet. _

She's leaning against the door frame of the shower, her eyes locked on the mirror facing her, and what she sees is the dangerous cocktail of horniness and prohibition. Her reflection helps her see how deep in her core she desires him, the way her flesh betrays her and reddens just by the thought of him. For the first time, she sees what it's like to need Harvey so bad, her sanity has left her. She knew in her guts she craved for his dick, but she never saw her body being so evident (she's _very _wet and _very _flushed, and _goddamnit _redhead's flesh).

She's never looked so lost and determined at the same time, her hazels darker by the seconds. Harvey sighs and she's left with goosebumps from head to toes.

Her gaze wanders further on her right, and the sight she's welcomed with is too much and not enough at the same time. Harvey's toned body is distinctly recognizable despite the adiaphane glass, all tall and glorious under the shower.

He's facing the wall, his free hand on the surface, while his handcuffed one rests on his hip, head down letting the water wet his hair. He looks like a marble statue she could never stop admiring.

She can't detail properly his body, but it's enough of an ogle for her to appreciate all the muscles he's made of. She already knows he's in good shape, the suits he wears as an armor give that away. She likes to undress him with her eyes. (She likes it too much if you ask her.)

What the Tom Ford's don't give away though, are his well-defined abs she once licked whipped cream off, the toned biceps she wished would envelop her at night, and his bombed ass she slaps only in her sleep. The years have been good to him, she can tell, even if her vision isn't perfect.

She should fight the need growing inside her, she should feel ashamed to think of him like that, but if she moves her head a bit backward to see directly in the shower, she could see it so clearly…

Donna closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and begs for the air filling her lungs to bring her, her sanity back. She waits and prays but nothing happens except for more Harveyness to enter her.

Damn him and his way to always get under her skin without even noticing it. He had poisoned her with his scotch and his smile, he stole her heart the first time he held her hands. She has never been able to win it back.

All her senses, mind, body and soul are bewitched by this man, and they are fighting her to finally surrender to this madness.

When she opens her eyes, she knows she's lost.

When she opens them, it's only to take a step back, turning her head to the right, directing her gaze into the shower, and _look._

That sight seals the deal for her heart, that sight of his back adorned by his moles, and the full view of his ass followed by the long thighs. That's it, she knows there's no going back.

The water is running wild on his creamy body, wetting it and adding that shiny and glowy effect, it's dazzling her eyes. She follows the drops with her globes, deeply focused on their races, as the sun's light outside warmly caresses his frame. She isn't missing a bit of the show he offers without even knowing it.

Her fingers are tickling her, the need to roam her nails all over this back and leave crescents mark on this shoulder, just to make him hers, becoming heavily present in her chest.

If only he knew the effect he has on her…

She wants to moan but bites her lips instead, eyes caressing his butt cheeks with lust. Harvey moves his legs a bit, shifting his balance from the right leg to the left one, and it snaps her back into reality, her head facing the mirror again, the angst to get caught a welcome addition to the already venomous mixture she's high on.

She's looking at herself one last time, her eyes locked on her hazels trying to reach the bottom of her soul. She only finds him there and the towel drops.

This is a stupid idea, surely a mistake given the circumstances, but the cloth lands on the floor without a sound nonetheless. Her head is at war with her heart, or her primal needs she doesn't know. She steps into the shower behind him.

She feels like a cat ready to eat the canary, her steps light and quiet. Harvey's back is tensed, and she knows he senses her, he always does. His head rises, but he doesn't turn around, yet. She doesn't see his mouth dry open nor his questioning eyes, she can only notice his breath faltering.

She stops mere inches behind him, the heat emanating from his body the only awareness of the none distance between them. Her breathing stops and no air makes its way to her lungs anymore.

She slowly and tenderly reaches the hand resting on his hips. The move is teasing and seems to last forever, the anticipation of the contact-making it even more important altogether.

Her fingers only brush his at first, gauging his reaction, even though, she's not asking for his permission, she's just pushing their boundaries a little further. Harvey offers no resistance, and so she applies more pressure, allowing her palm to join the back of his hand.

Their hands are melting into one another, the contact creates such a heat, Donna is sure she's going to have a burn.

Harvey lets the connection sink a bit more, before mustering the courage to ask, "Donna, what are you doing?" His voice is raw and so unsure, she thinks its gonna break.

"Isn't it obvious?" she answers back, using the same tone, confidence added.

He gulps at her words, the saliva hard to swallow with a naked Donna next to him. Harvey can't bring himself to look at her, his inner turmoil begging not to, because he's sure he would find a way to screw this up, to screw them when right now all he wants to screw is Donna.

He's positive he doesn't have a voice anymore, her hand took it away, but he speaks again.

"It is," Harvey takes a breath, "but why are you doing it?"

At this, Donna moves closer to his side, gluing more of her body against his. She fully takes his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers in the process.

His arm now alongside his body, her free fingers wrap themselves around his biceps, holding onto him in a desperate attempt to get him to move. Her breasts are resting by each side of his arm, her chest now in full contact with his body. She feels her nipples harden against his moist skin and boiling flesh.

With that comes the water, still running in the shower, and wetting Donna a bit (his t-shirt too, becoming heavy. They don't care). The warmth embraces her and she wishes the drops to be his mouth soon, but Harvey is still frozen on the spot.

She can see his face now, or at least a part of it and he closes his eyes when she tightens her clutch on him. Harvey's doubting for the both of them and she needs to reassure him, needs to tell him that's it is okay, that he can let go. He needs to know that it is them, that he can't hurt them, that he won't hurt them.

His breathing is erratic, chest moving up and down in a rhythm so unfamiliar for Harvey. She looks at him a second more and then brings her head down near his biceps, an open mouth meeting his damped skin. She featherly kisses him there, tasting him with such delicateness and control she didn't know to possess.

He tries to cool down, but she's everywhere. In his mind, in his heart and his shower and it's so _hard _to form a coherent thought. He has lost his vocabulary, the only word coming back at the tip on his tongue being her name.

She's the curse and the cure and he'll be damned if he doesn't do something.

His dick is already fully hard, has been since this morning. But the shower brought it up to a whole new level. Of course having Donna without any clothes on, in his shower would do something to his member. Even when she's not three inches away, he finds himself with a head full of red and a dick full of blood under the stream.

But the glimpse of the breast he caught in the corner of his eyes added to her bareback facing him when she managed to remove her sweater, her perfume reaching his nose and it's all it took for him to be rock hard in the confine of his pants.

So when she joins him, touches him and wants him, his heart only beats for his blood to run south.

Her gaze drifts lower and lower on his body, inevitably landing on the shaft she knows fits so perfectly inside her. She uses her tongue to lick her lips, smiles and kisses his arm once again.

This peck is more present on the skin, and so she dares, "Tell me to stop Harvey." Her voice like honey, "tell me you don't want this and I'll leave."

He turns his head to peer at her, his chocolate irises lacking the willingness to halt her. His brown orbs are just sparkling with desire and apprehension.

"I...I can't."

A second pass and eternity lull them before a deluge of lips meeting under the drops begins.

It's raw and pure, and such a long time coming it's hard to believe it's happening. Their lips fuse under the water, molding perfectly on the other. The kiss is sloppy and enough to opens the gates of retained envies and desperate desires, a decade of passion making its way out through the open doors of their tongues' convergence.

It's true what they say, lack exacerbates desire, and judging by the way Donna sucks on Harvey's bottom lip, she lacked for him for too long.

He eagerly responds to her action with his hands on her waist, he pushes her roughly against the cool tiles. She utters a groan and her tongue lands in his mouth. Harvey gladly let her in, sucks on it, toys with it.

Donna's free hand makes its way to his hair, messing with the wet and chaotic mane. She never gets to witness him as disheveled as he is now, soon fiding this Harvey is by far her favorite one. Leaving his scalp, she descends further on his neck, massaging it with her fingers and keeping his lips on hers altogether. Her handcuffed hand, on the other side grips his strong forearm, using him to keep her balance, a vain attempt to stick to the ground. She's already on cloud 9.

He traps her so bad between the wall and his body, she could easily seem crushed, she isn't and well enjoying his hardness pressed against her stomach. She doesn't think she's ever been this turned on and blames the alcohol that may be left in her body. Or at least the hangover. Or Harvey.

Definitely Harvey.

His right-hand leaves her waist only to cup one of her boobs, her nipple being rolled between index and fingers. She's sensible here, and the bastard remembers well.

His mouth leaves a wet path to her throat, kissing her cheek, jaw, and chin on its way south, sucking and biting at all the freckles he can find on her porcelain. She tastes like cinnamon and he can never get enough of her.

He's finally low enough to replace his fingers by his mouth around her breast, and her back arches from pleasure over her own accord.

"Fuck, Harvey." His name is a curse from pleasure and he's painfully hard.

The rhythm he applies here drives Donna wild and she's pretty sure her knees aren't able to support her anymore.

Their handcuffed arms restricting their moves, Harvey takes the lead to where they're heading, Donna's one still gripping his strong forearm.

He brings this one further down her body, exploring her delicious curves. The bottom of her back being the first stop, his palm so big he manages to push her hips against his, thrusting.

She gasps.

He does it again.

Going down again, he meets her ass, massaging her rounded buttocks with such adoration, Donna feels like a genuine treasure in his arms.

"God Don, you have no idea what you do to me…" his words hot in her ears.

It's staggering, the feeling of his hands on her body, his hunger to pleasure her turning her on so bad she moans loudly. The echo of her sound reaches Harvey's ears and he leaves her nipple with a 'plop' to plant his mouth back on hers.

He kisses her like she's never gonna be kissed by anyone else, claiming her and marking her with the bone of his fangs. She's no trophy though, he's very well aware of the fact. But the simple idea of imagining her with another man makes him sick, and so Harvey decides it's reason enough.

The lost hand Donna has in Harvey's neck finds a path on his body, from his shoulder to his chest, then further on his abs, it finishes its course on his groin. She cups his erection and his hips thrust into her hand. He fits so well in her hand, his impressive member the same as she recalls. Her perfect fit.

"Harvey," she moans, "I need you...now" her breath warm on his neck, Harvey's sure he could have come right then and there. She's pumping him, spreading the precum with her thumb, the sensible tip all red with the stimulation.

He's deliciously hard and she can't bear not to have him in her one more second.

He steps back to look at her, her hooded eyes meeting his dark ones. He nods and she lifts her right thigh for him to take.

"You're fucking hot you know that?" he blatantly speaks, his voice reverberating sex. She chuckles at his antics, and he grins back, kissing her smug expression off. Because right now he can do just that.

He doesn't take the leg right away, he wants to taste her first.

He blindly brings his fingers on her pussy, slowly opens her lips for him, and reaches for her clit. Donna cries at the move, his skilled fingers massaging it with just the right rhythm to expand her need for him ten times. He finds her _so wet _and _so ready _for him albeit him having done barely a thing to her, his dick twitches at the thought.

"You've been this wet all along?" he asks, "It's a miracle you didn't jump in the shower sooner." He's a tease and his smug face earns him a slap on the chest.

"Would you just fuck me already, Specter?"

"Oh fuck you hard I will, Paulsen."

Without warning, he inserts two fingers in her, and the face she makes is all he lives for from now on. Her parted lips, tongue resting just under her upper teeth, she's a sight for sore eyes.

He wants to tease her, but his erection is becoming painful, so he only pumps into her a few times, enough to have some of her moisture on his fingers, moisture he's too happy to bring to his lips.

Their glaring locked on each other, Harvey brings his index to his mouth, slowly licking her juices off, the sour taste blessing his buds. She tastes like heaven.

He goes for his middle finger, but Donna is quicker and engulfs it in the heat of her mouth, her tongue cleaning the digit so perfectly Harvey thinks he might have died from an erotic heart attack.

She releases him with a 'pop', and the shock on Harvey's face gives her the satisfaction and cockiness she was looking for (also testing herself on his fingers was a thing she didn't know she needed, but _damn_).

He smiles so brightly at her, his heart bursts out he can feel it in the confinement of his temples. He then grabs her leg and places it on his hip, assuring himself she has her full balance. He strokes himself a few times before teasing her entrance with his tip.

She's so hot and so wet, he knows he won't last long. Judging by her panting, she won't either.

"Do we need…?" he asks.

"I'm covered. You?"

"I'm good too."

Harvey teases her clit with his shaft a few more times, making her whimpers and he's so addicted to the sounds she makes it's almost frustrating.

He stops at her entrance and waits for her to nod, allowing him access to Nirvana.

One big thrust, and he's fully engulfed, her welcoming walls tightening around him while she adjusts to the prominent intrusion. Her hand falls on his shoulder, combined with a cry she never uttered before.

"Oh God Donna, you feel so good," he pants against her neck, then bites the gentle skin at the column of her throat, soothing it with a lick of his tongue.

Donna never forgot the other time, hitting replay of the images she engraved in her memory for the last decade. She never forgot the pleasure she had to sense his hard dick pumping into her, nor his fingers playing with her bundle of nerves.

The magic tricks he could do with his tongue were also very present in her mind. The pleasure she felt when she came back then has never been defeated by any other man making his way to her bed since then.

Harvey was the best she ever had.

But the sensation she's experiencing now couldn't compare to anything she's ever felt. Even better than what she remembers.

Harvey feels her walls still around him and guesses she's ready for him to move.

He starts slow, as slow and measured as he can, pumping languily and savoring the moment, completely losing himself to her. He lets the sloppy sounds of the flesh playing in his ears, and his guttural groans join Donna's in a perfect opera neither of the thought of playing this morning.

He's holding onto her hips with such force, he thinks he might leave marks here too. She doesn't seem to notice nor to care, and so he thrusts hard, hammering into her with all he has. He's retrieving himself almost fully each time and slams right back. He's restless on her, his balls slapping her butthole in the process.

He's increasing his pace each time his cock finds its way back to her, starting to expend the tempo, and with that her sighs of pleasure. He has no mercy for her, living her no time to think, just to feel him pumping and pumping, again and again, his pubic bone brushing her clit in the most marvelous of ways.

Her leg somehow manages to move higher on his waist, and the change of angle is helping the familiar sensation in Donna's core. Fuck he's good.

His grips on her thicken, and he's slamming vigorously, her tights walls being the encouragement he needs.

"Fucking you good enough?" his raspy voices resonates.

Donna traps her bottom lips with her teeth, nods before adding, "Yes Harvey, you do. Just like that please don't stop. Don't you dare stop."

Her eyes shut from the pleasure he's building in her, she holds onto him for dear life her nails are digging angry crescent marks in his skin. She curses his name and moves her hips just so the angle allows him to hit _that _spot.

Soon, her walls are clenching around his cock, and she warns him her release is about to arrive. The words are enough for him to travel one of his hand to her clit, massaging with his thumb, adding a bit more pressure here and there.

"Look at me Donna, I wanna see your eyes when you come," he instructs. She struggles at the task, because the delight passion she's going through is almost too much to bear, but eventually she does.

He claims her lips one more time, trapping her top lip with his own and running his tongue on it, before whispering on it, "Come for me."

It's all the stimulation she needed, and soon she's trembling between the wall and his body, coming all over his cock in his shower. She's crying and cursing his name at the same time, while he keeps thrusting, his thumb on her clit helping her coming down from the high.

He wants to prolong her pleasure as long as he can, but she approaches her lips boldly near his ear, her wet red hair brushing against his cheek. She darts her tongue out, licking his earlobe, and sucks on it, toying mercilessly with it.

Her ministration combined with her sent and the walls tight wrapped around him is too much, and trigger his orgasm, he soon joins her in the post-coital nirvana state, splooging inside her.

She finds that extremely hot and intimate.

He finds it oddly satisfying and carnal.

They are breathing heavily, trying to regain some control as air finds a way again to both their lungs and brains. _Especially _their brains.

Harvey absentmindedly strokes Donna's leg, as she brings it down again and he pulls out of her gently, assuring himself she can fully stand on her own.

Progressively, the realisation of what they just did dawns on them, and the fear regains its rightful place in their hearts.

Accompanied by fear comes the guilt, because whether they want it or not, neither could ever go back from what just happened.

"Donna, what did we just do?"

* * *

**Part V coming soon :) **

**please leave a review :)**

**Also, during those hard times we're in, please be safe and stay home!**


	5. Part V

**Hi it's me again. I hope you're all doing well guys.**

**A little upload because it's been some time since I've worked on this story. It was meant to be the last chap but I couldn't wait to finish this and because I won't be able to write what's left (not much) of the end of the story, I thought I'd upload this.**

**This is unbeta-ed, so I apologise for any mistakes.**

**Huge thanks to all of you who wished me a Happy Birthday on twitter (in april lmao sorry I'm late), I love you very much.**

**I won't be back on twitter (more explanations? coming when I'll Post the last chap)**

**Enjoy yourself on this.**

**Fran.**

**Part V:**

For a moment, there's only the shower running.

They don't speak, they just pant.

Harvey waits for an answer, but Donna is too stunned to even have understood the question. It looks like the cat just ate her tongue.

And it's quiet. The water is falling, they're heavily breathing, but it's quiet. This deafening silence suspends the moment in time even more.

They dare to look at each other, and for once their eyes aren't speaking any words. The fog from their recent orgasms has laid a veil on their eyes and thoughts, blocking them from reading each other as they would typically do.

This is not exactly the first time they lose this ability, they already felt like strangers once or twice during the past years, but it's not a sensation either like to entertain. It's not a nice feeling.

Harvey has his eyes fixed on Donna anyway, determined to see behind the hail.

She has pearls of sweat streaming down her face, running on her temples. The water has yet driven them away. It leaves a crack on her skin like her porcelain just fractured open, and the redhead suddenly seems so fragile under him.

Harvey wants to comfort her, wipes away the split with his thumb but eventually decides against it. Somehow it feels too intimate, not them.

He is about to repeat his question when Donna finally voices. "I'm sorry Harvey, I'm so so sorry." Her voice is quivering and hitcher, the words and the tone so un-Donna like Harvey wants to break.

"What are you sorry for Don?"

"It's just, I'm… I ca-"

She swallows hardly, the knot of guilt in her throat blocking the saliva. She is still holding onto his shoulder, his toned body, guarding her up. She's desperately looking for something to ground her but she only has his wet skin.

Fear has her paralyzed against the tiles, suffocating her with its remorses. She already put this relationship at risk once by the simple touch of their lips. It caused storms to break over them like never before.

It was only a kiss then, and they have done more than that now. And even with the change of circumstances since then, Donna is petrified this time is one time too many.

She even turned down _his_ kiss earlier for the same reasons, and yet she finds herself naked in his shower two hours later.

"I'm so sorry, Harvey, oh God. I don't know what happened I- Gosh I didn't want-"

She rambles, her thoughts so disorganized. He cuts her off with honey in his voice. "It's okay, Donna, it's fine. Just, breath, okay?"

She nods, and this calmness surprises her. Surprises her because she didn't expect that from him. It's not like she expected anything about how he would react afterwards, hell she didn't think about afterwards at all.

In the spur of the moment, there was only him, her and a decade of repressed want.

But, she finds his tone… out of character given the situation. Last time he was enraged and frenetic, lashing out at her with vehemence even. She felt like a criminal to his eyes.

So, if she'd have to guess for this time, she'd say he would react the same way, screaming at her, telling her that she had no rights, that her judgment sucks or whatever bullshit words he'd find suitable to say during a fight.

It would have made more sense; it would have been more him.

Except he is calm, and he says it's fine.

"Breath in. Hold it for a sec, and then out. It's okay Donna."

It almost nerves her.

How can he say that it's fine when they just had sex in his shower because she couldn't tame her pheromones?

It is not fine, it's… catastrophic. It's the epitome of her idiocy, and she can sense that anger is starting to fuel her veins and endures it with despair in her eyes.

She's so, so mad at herself to have let lust controlled her like she was a fucking teen. And she's mad at him for allowing her to do it. Why on earth did he not stop it?

She's furious against Mike and Rachel for putting them in this position in the first place. Without their little sentence and their need to play Cupid, none of this would have had happened. When did tying

Harvey and her together has become a good idea anyway?

She hates the fucking universe for making her fall in love with him twelve years ago and curses Aphrodite or Venus whatever her name is, for giving her heart away to a man so complicated to love.

Love shouldn't be so hard and loving Harvey has been everything but simple.

It shouldn't be so hard.

She takes a deep breath, forcing air into her body. Her lungs cries because of the pain, but it is a welcomed distraction, even if brief.

"That's it Donna, just like that. Breath for me, okay?"

He's so calm and she's so angry. And ashamed.

She's ashamed of her weakness, and if a whole could swallow her right this second, she would be grateful. She wants to brush everything under the rug, forget all of this happened and make awkwardness go away. She can't bear to be the one who put it here in the first place.

Donna can blame Harvey all she wants for his poor way with words and emotions, but she isn't anything better when it comes to them.

"I don't know what got into me Harvey," she admits slowly, "I wasn't thinking properly and I- Gosh this is embarrassing." She chuckles, but it's more out of unease than anything else. Harvey has an iced talon planted in his heart.

She rationalizes. "It was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened, and I'm sorry it did."

Donna doesn't want to give a chance to Harvey to speak yet, maybe because she's afraid of what he might say, or perhaps because she's done giving him the opportunity to break her heart, she doesn't know. But either way, she wants to regain the control that lust made her lose.

This is the only way she knows how, and she misses Harvey breaking right under her eyes because of it.

Harvey is listening to her, all ears and each word feels like a knife in his skin. The more she speaks and the more he drowns, swallowed by the sin of loving her with a closed heart. Her words bury every glint of hope that appeared to him when Donna entered the shower.

He thought this time would be it, could be it, because it felt different. Her eyes, her words, her lust and her touches felt different on his skin, setting his whole on fire and devouring him with a renewed vigour.

But then she says it is a mistake, and he remembers she didn't feel anything when she kissed him. And she doesn't want more, not with him anyway.

Life's a joke, isn't it?

He shouldn't be surprised, though. It's kind of her thing when he comes to think of it, setting lines, allowing them to get blurry, finally crossing them only to end up telling him it meant nothing or asking him to put it out of his mind.

_The other time, the kiss._

Today's just history repeating itself.

"Can we just- like?"

"Put it out of our minds and never mention it again because it doesn't mean anything?"

It stinks to see Donna nod. He distances himself from her.

"Yeah, don't worry Donna, it's already forgotten." His head is low, defeated, and his tone is almost accusing.

"Harvey-"

"No no, Donna, don't bother. It's always the same thing with us, isn't it? I get it now, you want to forget it? Fine, it's forgotten."

Touching her, kissing her, fucking her, it's an addiction, and no matter how many times Harvey tried, he could never forget how she feels under him. And here she is, asking him to wipe this heaven from his memory like he's a stupid goldfish swimming around in his aquarium.

"Okay," she repeats under her breath, "Forgotten."

"Now can we please just go out of the shower and get dressed before one of us do another thing that must be forgotten too?"

She wants to speak but nods instead, his hollow gaze averting her voice from doing so. Harvey turns off the shower and gets out, not once looking at her.

It's so, so far from fine.

* * *

The exit the shower wrapped up in regrets and awkwardness, and suddenly the consequences are too real on Donna's back. Too heavy.

Harvey passes before the towel Donna dropped earlier without a care in the world and goes to grab his own, putting it around his waist. Donna is the one to pick up the cloth from the ground and covers herself with it, hiding her modesty behind it.

Harvey's undershirt still hangs between them, damped and dripping with water. He was supposed to put it back on after his shower, but that is not going to happen. They'll have to cut it too if they don't want a deadweight on their arms all day.

Still without sharing anything, Donna takes the item in her hands and moves to the sink, Harvey following slowly behind, feeling the pull of her arm dragging him there. She spins, squeezes and mangles the thing until there's only a drizzle of water escaping it.

"Do you mind if we cut this too?" She timidly asks.

"Nop."

"Where're your scissors?"

"Where you left them last night."

"So, in the kitchen then," Donna states.

"Unless your memory falters, yes Donna you left them in the kitchen," Harvey adds.

"Harv-"

"Let's go cut this off."

With that, Harvey takes the wet t-shirt from Donna's hands and storms out of the bathroom, hurry in his steps. Donna barely keeps up with his pace, still surprised by his fast move. The towel that is wrapped around her frame isn't well secured and it starts to tumble around her.

Between her restricted wrist being dragged by an urgent force and her feet having trouble carrying her, she's torned apart.

"Harvey wait," Donna asks.

He hears nothing and continues to the door of the bedroom.

"Harvey please slow down!"

He's deaf to her requests.

Donna stops dead in her tracks, takes the chain of the handcuffs with both her hands -eventually letting down the towel a second time that day- and pulls on it with all of her strengths hoping to stop the bulldog Harvey turned into.

"Harvey stop!" She shouts this time. And this time he listens.

Her voice snaps Harvey out of his trans almost immediately, the urgent tone and force she applies on his wrist a wake up call.

"What now?" he barks and turns to her, taking the scene before him. Donna is naked a confused, gripping the handcuffs with such force her knuckles have turned white.

"You're hurting me."

His eyes go from her face to her breasts and it takes him a second to realise he's starring, "Oh shit Donna I'm-"

"Could you like- look elsewhere, please?"

"Oh, hum, yeah of course. Sorry," Harvey tears his eyes back off of her. The question startles him more than he'd admit. After all, he was inside her not ten minutes ago, but now seeing her naked is out of reach. Donna is building back on the barriers she let down to fuck him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she says as she grabs the towel and wraps it around her.

"Excuse me, I forgot we had those on, I didn't wanna hurt you."

"It's fine really. Just, be mindful next time. Please?"

"Sure." He dares to turn his eyes back on her, an apologetic gaze he throws at her.

"So, those scissors…"

"Yeah, the kitchen!"

They manage the rest of the journey towards the kitchen, and Donna tears apart Harvey's clothes once again.


	6. Part VI

_**PART VI:**_

The dripping shirt is no longer hanging between them like a dead weight, and the pair focuses on the next task at hand; getting dressed. They go back to the bedroom all the while silence is doing a fine job at keeping them company.

They keep physical interactions at the strict minimum, giving extra care still to their tied and wounded writs. The iron bracelet is scraping their fleshes and makes their bones ache for more freedom. They're _almost_ used to it now - the link and the pain.

(The pain is a nice distraction if you ask them.)

Even with just a few words, and a few glances, they communicate rather finely - they always knew how to walk side by side in the same direction anyway, it's as natural as breathing.

Donna is the one to dress first for no other reasons than that she's the guest. They walk in pace towards the sweater and jeans resting on a chair not far from the bed, and for a second she regrets the comfiness of Harvey's jogging when she sees the skinny trouser. Blessing yoga for her wonderful balance, she puts all the items back on without too much trouble, and the added layer between hers and Harvey's skins is a very-welcomed barrier.

Once she's all set, it's Harvey's turn to choose his clothes from the dressing. He chooses boxers and simple black running shorts first, and it's only when he goes to pick a t-shirt they both realize he won't need it.

He can't put it on.

The handcuffs are happily keeping him from doing so.

It leaves his bare chest on full display for the rest of the day, it leaves the red lines of desire, as well as the angry crescent marks Donna's nails made on him, for the world to contemplate.

Donna doesn't allow herself such a spectacle, her eyes losing themselves between the ceiling and the floor while shame makes her swallowing hard - after all, it _is_ her artwork in a way (her most impulsive and inappropriate artwork, but hers all the same).

Donna's sweater has, at least, the decency to cover the shoulder Harvey ruined by biting and sucking the freckled flesh present there like it was the fountain of youth - he saw the dent his bite left, he's almost proud of it.

They claimed each other back in that shower, that's undeniable - and thanks to the lack of clothes, it's now unforgettable too.

The awkwardness they bathe in is naturally staying by their side during the rest of their morning routine and the air is still too thick to breathe but they manage - it's not like there is another option waiting for them in the corner.

* * *

By the time they come out of the bedroom, all dressed and cleaned up, some unspoken rules have been set - they went for the toothpaste at the same time. They touched. Not an option anymore - they don't talk - only when necessary - and they don't look at each other and they avoid touching as much as they can and it's only the middle of the afternoon and they have some ten hours to go through enchained together.

They're on their way to the kitchen to grab some water - Donna's request - when her phone rings. It's on the counter and Harvey grabs it for her out of reflex, handing it with a "Your Mom".

She thanks him and picks up with a low voice, "Mom, hey."

Harvey knows how much of a privy person Donna is when it comes to her family, and he so he tries to give her some space by turning away from her, but she's still less than 2 feet away and as much as his will will go, he can't help but catch bits of the conversation going on.

He hears Donna mumbles _No Mom, I can't right now - because I'm not at my place for the rest of the day - Mom don't even start - What? No, it's not like that and you know it - Mom why are you calling me again? - Yes, I already told Amy that!_

The questions are easily guessed but who's Amy again?

Donna is so lost in the conversation she's having over the phone she doesn't register her feet leading her over the windows of the balcony.

Harvey just follows.

_Yeah I know they're both coming over next week, I have my place ready - Well, I'm an organized person, something your other daughter lacks terribly if you ask me. _

_Oh right_, Donna has a sister. _Older? Younger? Older. _

And she still has her back to him, and still speaks with a hushed tone that screams isolation and he curses himself once more for not being able to give her what she needs.

_Which hotel did you book again? - Okay, then. - No, no I don't mind having Ava over for the weekend, I've nothing planned anyway. - Well see, that's just mean, I do have a social life. You just don't know about it because it happens you don't know every aspect of my life. _

Ava doesn't ring a bell though.

Harvey tries not to pay attention to the 'family drama' occurring right next to him, but Donna fidgets _alot _with one of her locks and her head is down a little - the hair is for the nervousness, the head for the annoyment - and that is not a cocktail the redhead is used to be in.

But most of all, she seems… embarrassed, almost shy, and way too privy about the phone call. It's like she wants to hide _from him_ and that triggers an alarm deep in his guts, for they have invaded in each other's spaces, limits, and privacies for over a decade without concern nor care - but always with respect and love - whether it was sharing god awful dinner parties with the mother and boyfriend or going out for drinks in a jazz bar with the brother to hear the father play with his band.

Listening to private conversations over the intercom, mending broken relationships, protecting the other from a toxic one - they've crossed the line of 'personal' years ago, twelve years of more-than-friendship have this magic trick that erases privacy. Both of their inside and outside office lives so intrigued they've melt and blend. It's all but a blurry mess as of today.

They should be passed a whispered tone when one is on the phone with their mother.

But Donna is not.

And that bothers him.

_Alright, see you again next week then. - Love you too. Bye._

The call ends and she turns. Her face isn't hidden by her curtain of hair and her eyes give it all away to him. She's on edge, miffed - but it's a different kind of miff than the one coming from their situation. This irritation is deep-rooted in her being, like a quackgrass blossoming when the right people water it.

He doesn't expect her to explain what this was all about, he won't ask either, but a little spark of hope makes its voice heard, and deep down, Harvey wishes for her to say something - anything really, that would allow her to relieve some of the weight her family brings on her chest.

Circumstances being what they are, she looks at him like a lost dog, mouth closed and tired eyes, nods toward the kitchen where her forgotten water glass lies on the counter and he obliges, following her suite towards the needed beverage.

* * *

It hurts him. And it pinches him. Pretty hard.

For one, it's a dirty reminder of how the last year affected their relationship, and how far they have run from each other, how their actions drove them from the ones they're supposed to be to each other.

Bad choices coming after bad decisions caused them to simply stop the drinks in the office late at night, to avoid the vanilla in their coffee because one smell is too damaging, to simply talk and not flirt like they so easily do just because it's their way to communicate.

But most importantly, they were _that _person for each other. Without questions nor hesitations, they were the ones they called at six in the morning or midnight or at any time of the goddamn day really. They were _Donna and Harvey_, dominating the legal world of the apple city, and they were _Harvey and Donna_, ready to cross thousands of hells for their best friends.

Not even Mark, or Scottie or any of their past relationships was ever strong enough to defeat _that, _this kind of _them_.

Until _her. _

Until _his _mistake - perhaps biggest _regret._

Until this woman caused enough damages and doubts in his mind that when she questioned Donna's place in his life and gave him a choice, he fucking _hesitated. _She made his heart lose the way to his head so bad that he considered a life without the redhead in it.

And he _hates _himself for it. Because Donna should _never_, has_ never_,and will _never_ be a choice to his soul. Always an obviousness.

_Paula _is what broke them, broke the gears that made them work as nonpareil partners.

And he's no mechanic but trying to get the machine back on track once she left their lives for good has been a challenge, and all this weekend as proven so far is that the wounds are deeper than ever.

He's certain of one thing though, being he wants to fix this relationship more than he wants to breathe, and perhaps his earlier behavior hasn't exactly reflected this need.

And Harvey may still be mad with Donna, with what she did and what she said, she stays _Donna_ nonetheless, and the simple thought of her being uncomfortable around him, uncomfortable in his home stirs something in his stomach.

Because, even if he has every right to be angry at her, at what she did, he didn't voice his disagreement when he should have, and he can't be mad at her for his cowardice.

Also, they still have nine hours to go before the clock strikes midnight and for the handcuffs to disappear. Maybe it's time for his actions to finally match his wants when it comes to the woman who has been there for him every single day.

"Any idea of what to do now?" he then gently asks - the first step.

He sees her hesitate as she grabs the water they came here in for in the first place, "Hum, I don't know. Just something where we don't need to move our wrists because mine is killing me."

She takes a sip as he responds, "I agree, mine's hurting too."

She nods and takes another sip, slowly, letting the water chase away the dryness, "Those shackles are a pain in the ass for sure."

"Damn Mike and Rachel and their stupid ideas, " he curses primly, clearly still a bit sour of his defeat and since when Donna and he can't hold their stupid liquor enough to guess a few cards?

His wrist accompanies Donna's putting the glass down when his eyes spot something on the coffee table that might have all they're looking for; easiness and familiarity. "What about poker?"

"What, like now?" She turns to look at him and he has this face that he makes when he wants to be forgiven. This goofy-puppy-childish face sporting a shy smile and clever eyes.

"Yeah, why not? We haven't played together in a long time," he shrugs, "I promise I'll go easy on you." Harvey's extending somewhat of an olive branch and it's such a rare occurrence from him she can't help but take it.

She's intrigued as to why he seems less tense all of a sudden, more inclined to treat her as a human being instead of a ghost, and so she smiles, one that timidly reaches her eyes with a shy glint and chides, "Don't you dare."

To Harvey, it's like winning the goddamn lottery.

* * *

They get comfortable on the coffee table, facing each other. The game starts without their usual banter but with the usual glancing eyes (thank you Poker) and the nervous breathed air seems to suit Harvey more than does Donna because he wins the first round all too easily - he suspects she let him; he'll never know- for his legendary cocky side makes its expected entrance.

Donna rolls her eyes heavenwards and graciously reminds him that he may have won a battle, he did not win the war.

He scoffs, she deals the cards. Game on.

They play again and again and again until their competitive minds manage to throw out of the window the thick atmosphere only to let a more endearing and playful one take its place. They can't pinpoint the moment it happens, but one second the air is too heavy to breathe, and then the other, their lungs are filled with oxygen and happily working in their thoracic cages.

It's a relief knowing they still manage to have a bubble of air even when they're underneath a raging ocean of water.

Donna ends up winning the war, of course, she does. Because Harvey reads people but she reads him, and she knows him, and he never shies away when it's her eyes that decipher him. They agreed not to play with real money, just a symbolic token, but they both know she'll have a new _Oscar de la Renta_ in her closet next week.

Some of the marks on Harvey's chest have started to fade along with the bitterness, and it might be a small step for the world, but it sure as hell is a big one for Donna and Harvey today.

* * *

After poker, work catches up with Harvey. The fire he managed to control yesterday morning has gone wilder than expected, and he needs to make some phone calls and type down emails.

Donna asks if he needs her help - old secretary's habits die hard - but Harvey dismisses her, arguing that he doesn't want her to work on a Sunday.

(And he's used to being on his own now that she's COO.)

(That part doesn't leave his brain though.)

They both get installed at his desk, and while he's pulling some strings to avoid a catastrophe, Donna grabs a pencil and a piece of paper to draw her boredness away. She is no Da Vinci and she knows it, but the killer whale she manages to pull is for sure one she's proud of.

Harvey doesn't pay attention to what she's doing right away, too caught up in his work for it, but at some point, he needs his left arm, and now oh so instinctively, turns to see if Donna can move her right one. Only when he turns, he's met with a sight of her he never quite had, and boy how does it mesmerize him.

Donna has the pen in her hand, her head tilted a little with the cutest frown of her brown betraying the concentration. She is biting her lower lips too and Harvey's heart just burst from elegance and grace.

Her glorious red curls are falling on her left side, and she tries but fails to put a rebel strand of her fire hair behind her ear. He fights the need to do it for her.

He's enthralled by the sight, and what was it that he was doing before? Because right now, Harvey's pretty much convinced he was brought on earth to do just this, admire her with all of his soul while she plays with hers and a pencil at his desk.

It takes Donna five whole minutes to finally sense his fasciated gaze on her. A blush she hopes is not too noticeable on her cheeks and she raises her head from the paper only to be met by admiration and respect in the eyes of the one she yearns for.

She smiles at his antics and he states, "I didn't know you could draw." It's soft and sweet on his tongue.

"It's more of a scribble really," she responds, her eyes fixed on it. She can't look at him when he looks at her like this. "It just helps me clear my mind. And serves as a reminder that I'm kind of an artsy person I guess."

"I think it's beautiful," his gaze locked on her freckles, "and that you're very talented."

Only now she turns her eyes to him, whispers a "Thank you, Harvey."

He smiles back, a genuine one, and goes back to his work and Donna to hers.

Before they know it, most of the afternoon is gone and it's a little after 5 PM when Harvey is finally done with the Sunday emergency.

(He keeps the drawing.)


	7. Part VII

_**PART VII:**_

Harvey is done with his work for the day, and the duo finds himself once again in a blur as to what to do next.

All they know is that they're _exhausted_.

The party yesterday night and the hangover coming with it was in itself an already tiring situation; Harvey's shoulder and Donna's liver keep reminding them that they're not twenty anymore. On top of that, they also had to go through it all, with only half of their bodies available.

They've passed the point now, where the handcuffs hurt so much that they don't hurt anymore, or maybe it's just them being used to the sharp metal and the sharp pain, Donna can't really tell. What she can tell is that they're getting the hang out of this thing now, and maybe this is helping not to feel them anymore. Constantly having to move their linked wrists as if it were one arm has become a sort of second nature now. It's almost a shame they're cutting the shackles loose tonight.

Still, the need for a quiet and headache-free evening is rather a shimmering thought occupying both their minds, and it doesn't really come as a surprise when Harvey throws his free hand towards the TV and prods, "How do you feel about a movie night?"

Donna slowly nods, "I feel perfectly fine with it." Then, "On one condition."

"I'm listening."

"All of Sean Connery's are off-limits."

"What? But Do-"

"Huh, huh, Harvey. That's not negotiable." She crosses her arms - or tries to anyway - over her chest to make her point, "Having you quoting his lines with a pitiful imitation is enough of a reason. I don't need to watch the authentic one too."

"Fine," he growls because pretty much all of his movie choices for the night just got knocked out. "So what do you suggest?"

"_Les Parapluies de Cherbourg_?" She says in a too innocent tone, and Harvey figures she's joking and that it's supposed to make him whine a bit because if there's one thing he hates more than musicals, it's _french_ musicals, and she is well aware of the fact.

Still, her crooked eyebrow makes him doubt for a sec, and Donna sees the way his shoulders tense just enough to signal his non-enthusiasm. It makes her laugh.

He loves her laugh.

"Relax, I wasn't serious," she gushes between two chuckles, "unless you wanna watch it?"

Harvey shrugs, "Huh, I think I'm gonna pass on this one, thanks."

"More seriously though," Donna continues, "I was thinking of… _Alien_?" she offers in a sheepish voice.

She has a knowing glint in her eyes, a sort of mischief that only appears in the hazels when she's sure she stunned him enough that he needs a second or two to acknowledge what she said or did properly. She knows he likes to catch her off guard but rarely manages to do so because, well, she's Donna. But the thing is, she loves catching him off guard too, and albeit she does so almost daily, seeing his smile when she uses her superpowers on him never gets old.

That's how he's looking at her right now, startled and proud.

"Oh, don't look so surprised here, Harvey. I happen to do love some of your classic movies, you know," she casually confesses, "plus, I can't resist Sigourney Weaver in cotton panties."

He whispers an "I didn't know." Because he didn't, neither about the movies or Sigourney, and the confessions have rendered him saliva deprived as the two redheads run wild in his imagination.

Fifteen minutes later, they're seated on the couch that is far too big to use as an excuse for their closeness. Donna's knees are brushing Harvey's thighs, just enough so that she can feel his warmth through her jeans, and Harvey has his hand resting on the sofa so near to Donna's hair, he could - _wants to _\- put his smart fingers in her ruddy locks.

With some popcorn on the coffee table and plaid on them to keep Harvey's chest warm, they're religiously watching _The Nostromo _appearing on the screen.

Harvey orders the pizza - with yellow tomatoes and that woman's taste buds aren't normal, Harvey swears - and they will be delivered in one hour or so to feed those empty stomachs.

They both go for the popcorn, which causes their hands to brush against each other, but it doesn't feel strange anymore; it just sends a bolt of electricity through their bodies; nothing out of the ordinary then.

It's also the moment that Donna chooses to shift closer to Harvey because the plaid isn't huge, and she's getting cold on this February night, and he's warm and has most of the thing anyway. It makes Harvey shiver at first - it's an unexpected and _intimate _move - but he welcomes her in his embrace nonetheless, his arms winding like veils coming to dress her shoulders.

It's a good movie and a good evening, and maybe it's finally _fine_.

.

.

The pizza's good.

Harvey never thought he'd say this, but yellow tomatoes aren't even that bad - he'll never admit that - and the 1979's movie is still the best thriller ever made. The oppressive atmosphere is doing its work perfectly, and albeit that Donna has seen the _Ridley Scott_ more times than she can count, she's still febrile to Harvey's almost pleasure - she got incredibly close to him and gripped his forearm out of fear more than once.

They're two scenes away from seeing Ripley with her thin cotton top, braless, and underwear when Donna's phone buzzes on the coffee table. The sound makes her jump out of her skin, causing Harvey to chuckle next to her.

Donna glances at him and murmurs a "Shut up," and disentangles herself from the plaid to grab the inanimate object. She looks at the notification - a text, Harvey figured from the sound - and only needs to read the sender's name to sigh. It's a long and exhaled one, the miffed king she usually reserves for Louis when he's out of prunie or trying to pull off something stupid.

Harvey can't see her phone from their positions, her body is blocking the view, but he immediately feels her tense next to him, her shoulders contracting before his eyes. It's the same tension that engulfed them this morning when her mother called, and he didn't dare to ask what bugged her then. It would have been crossing too many lines in too little time.

Although since then, the whole afternoon that passed brought them back to an enough stable state, Harvey thinks. She won him at poker, they worked in comfortable silence, and agreed on a movie, all of it without too much awkwardness and relative easiness. Even more, they _touched_, and bantered, and looked at each other with the same spark usually inhabiting them, so Harvey feels confident enough now, tonight as they're watching a movie, asking her.

(Maybe a part of him wants to know if she feels safe enough to confess to him.)

"Everything okay?"

"Hum, yeah, fine," Donna shrugs dismissively, "Why?"

Harvey swallows, trying not to sound too pushy, afraid to offend her. "I don't know. You seem - tense. All of a sudden."

Donna sits back correctly on the couch, leaving her phone on the table, and ponders the adjective with a pensive look.

"I'm not tense," she corrects, " I'm…annoyed."

She sounds sad, defeated even, and that only grows the worry bubbling inside his chest. He presses,

"Donna, what is it? You know you can talk to me, right?"

"It's nothing. It's just," she babbles. She's staring so hard at the movie that is still playing. It's like she's hoping to find her words there. "My sister's a dick."

He gives her a small smile. "Nothing new here." And continues, "What did she do this time?"

Her head drops in defeat, or is it shame? Harvey can't properly decipher as her hair does a great job hiding her from his gaze. "She knows I spent the weekend here, and she's…"

"She, what?"

His tone reflects genuine interest, and Donna senses that he won't let her get away with a simple smile and wink. So, she summons all the courage she can muster and tries cutting to the chase without being too explicit.

"She's assuming shit about us." Donna gauges for his reaction at the implication - no one needs a drawing to get what kind of shit her sister is talking about - but Harvey doesn't move an eyelid at her words.

He keeps the words for himself, and Donna fills the heavy silence with explanations. "When it's other people getting the wrong idea, it's boring but okay. But when it's my own sister, it nerves me. I know where we stand, and the fact that she doesn't believe me when I tell her about us, well, it gives me hives."

It's silence again, and she's getting impatient by his lack of response, and she's starting to regret even speaking about it in the first place.

Donna's one second away from brushing the subject under the rug when Harvey says, "Do you, though?"

"Do I, what?"

"Know where we stand?"

"Harvey wh-"

"Because to me, it seems like you don't, Donna."

There is no doubt about the accusing hint in his tone. She has a hard time swallowing but reigns her throat in a desperate attempt to sound normal. She's never been more afraid to ask a question. "What are you saying?"

He hits pause, stopping the movie, and it can only mean that they left the already unsteady ground of friendly confessions to the forbidden territory neither of them has dared to set foot in for over a decade.

"I'm saying that you like to claim we're friends and that nothing is going on here," he gestures between the two of them, "Hell, you even made a rule out of it. And yet, every day, you come into the office wearing those fancy dresses and high heels that make it impossible for me to tear my eyes away from you. And you do that _on purpose_. Because you damn well know how I look at you."

There's something in his eyes as he says the words that make her stomach twitch nervously, and she wonders if it is what it feels like to be _seen _by Harvey finally, not just _looked at_.

He goes on, "You allow us to banter and joke with so many sexual innuendos it would make a porn star _shy_. But it never means anything."

"As far as I'm concerned, it takes two to banter Harvey."

He dismisses her with disdain, ignoring her and her angry tone to keep speaking. "_You_'re the one who said we had to forget about the other time and never mention it again, and yet _you_'re the one who consistently brings it up. _You_'re the one who kissed me out of the blue despite everything, and_ you_'re also the one who jumped into the shower for my dick."

Donna is at a complete loss of words, not used nor prepared to such bluntness coming from Harvey of all people. But here he is, towering over her as much as he can with the handcuffs, refraining him from standing up properly, putting her under a kaleidoscope, and peeling away every layer of protection she put on over the years.

"So you tell me, Donna. Where do we stand?"

Her voice quivers, "I take what little I can have when I can, Harvey. That's where we stand."

"And what on earth does that mean?"

_This is it,_ she thinks. _To hell with the consequences._

"It means I love you, Harvey. And not in the brother, or cousin kind of way."

His lips part slightly, eyes wide and dark, but he doesn't say anything. Donna gets up from the couch, too, facing him. She wants to be close to him for what she has to say next, and so she erases with a step the little distance the handcuffs allow them to have.

"I'm in love with you. Have been for a long time." She doesn't seem to know how to stop the words coming out from her mouth, almost can't phantom that it's her saying this. But now that it is all out, why should she stop? "But I couldn't say a word, or otherwise, I would have lost you, and that's just not an option."

Harvey stares at her, and he hasn't said a word yet, which oddly gives Donna the hope that's making her heart jump inside her chest. She stands, and their lips are inches away from touching, but she looks at him in the eyes when she says, "You weren't ready after the other time. That's why I said what I said. And maybe you're still not ready for more now, but at least you know."

Harvey sees her opening her mouth to speak again, but he doesn't let her utter the words. Whatever she was going to say, it's sweeter on his tongue as he licks the sentence away directly from her mouth.

Donna responds to him with enthusiasm, running her fingers over the side of his neck, around his neck, and through his hair until she gets a moan out of him.

Harvey brings her body to him, pressing her until all the air between them dissipates. He runs his free hand up her sides, journeying over her ribs and to the sides of her breasts, and it's her turn to moan into his mouth. His fingers reach her face then, caressing the soft flesh of her cheek with his fingers until they get lost in her hair. He can't get enough of her.

He feels her nails having a journey of their own, digging all over his back and mapping it out, passing over his moles, reviving the marks already present there. She reaches the edge of his pants and pushes his hips towards hers in a moment of abandonment.

Their tied hands have linked their fingers together, squeezing and brushing the flesh there as a way to keep them grounded to this reality, that it is all really happening.

Out of pure love this time, not out of lust. And if that ain't all the difference in the world.

Donna sucks slowly on his lower lip, and he needs to press her against something; anything otherwise, he might as well lose his goddamn mind, but there isn't any near his near couch, and why does he leave in a condo with these little walls again?

So, he takes the second-best option, and in one swift move, manages to lift Donna off the ground and into his arms. She gasps at the unexpected attention but resumes kissing him when she sees the smug grin gracing his lips.

Harvey starts walking towards his bedroom, but taking a step after the other when he can't see a thing, too preoccupied with sucking Donna's talk, is becoming a challenge. His shoulder isn't helping either, and so when Donna releases his mouth to attack his neck, he spots his desk in the corner of the living room.

_Well, that will do._

As he goes to deposit her on the surface, Donna takes him by surprise when she sends everything that was resting there to the ground with her arm, not caring one second about the mess she just created.

"For safety," she says to his stunned face.

Harvey laughs at her antics and takes this time to slow things down a bit. He takes the time to look at her properly, rosy lips begging to be kissed and red hair just disheveled enough to look sexy. She's a fucking prey he can't wait to devour.

Donna can almost see the desire pouring out of Harvey as he looks at her, his hands traveling on her thighs, and it makes the heat between her legs grow ten times. She's almost embarrassed by how wet she already is when really they did nothing but make out. She leans back on her elbows, an invitation she knows he won't refuse, a slurry looks in the hazels, and a smart smile gracing her features.

But before Harvey can reach his destination - her exposed collarbone - something catches her attention in the corner of her eyes. She's not sure at first, totally aware that she could be hallucinating from lust, but she wants to be sure.

"Harvey, look." Her chin is pointing at the edge of the desk, where the pen jar has landed alongside some pencils and highlighters. He doesn't get it at first, stunned by Donna's sexless tone.

One, two seconds of staring, and then, "Is that… the key?" His tone colored with disbelief.

"I think so," Donna confirms.

His hand leaves Donna's thigh and grabs the item, bringing it closer for them to analyze it. Their memories may be foggy due to the state they were in last night, but the metal object that is currently dangling between is, without a shadow of a doubt, the opener of the handcuffs.

"Damn, puppy," Harvey exhales bemusedly.

Donna lets one or two chuckles lose, giddy as if she was a pirate finally finding a treasure - and in a way, she has. She shares a knowing smile with Harvey, and without further due, he detaches himself from the sharp mental.

Donna patiently waits for him to do the same for her, but he just looks at her, saying, "Oh no. You keep them on. I have plans for you tonight."

When they step into the bedroom, Harvey delays tomorrow morning by closing the curtains.

.

.

"Do you think they fainted? Or died?"

"Rach, you're ridiculous."

"What? Those or very reasonable possibilities!" She defends as they step out of the elevator on Harvey's floor.

"Yeah, or maybe they're just fine and still sound asleep in Harvey's bed, snoring like bears in the winter because of their tiring weekend," Mike responds without much faith in what he says.

He is trying to be the rational one, but when Donna and Harvey are the center of the conversation, being rational feels like trying to breathe underwater. It's impossible.

"I'm serious, Mike!" Rachel protests, slamming his arm in the process. "Don't you think it's weird that _neither _of them called us last night to know where you hid the keys?" The brunette insists as they stand before Harvey's door, "They didn't call this morning either, and Louis said that they didn't show up at work. Something must have happened."

He soothes his arm and agrees, "It's Donna and Harvey. Of course, something happened."

"I'm not sure how I feel about it this time."

"We're gonna find out soon, anyway," he adds, knocking on the door.

.

.

Donna Paulsen looks so peaceful. Harvey doesn't have the heart to wake her, not yet.

She's gloriously naked, her body stretched out in the white sheets covering her body to the waist and red hair flowing around her head like an angel's halo.

If he wasn't feeling her legs entangled with his, Harvey could easily confuse her for one of his dreams.

But this isn't that, and after what seems like an eternity of run and hide, he finally has gotten the beautiful creature into his bed. They made love fiercely, and Harvey couldn't be happier if he tried.

The clock on his bedside table indicates 9:37 AM, which means they're late for work, and he knows she'll likely chastise him for letting them sleep in so late on a business day, but he figures it's worth it.

Because Harvey's finally waking up next to her, he finally _has _her in the right way, the only way that matters, and he'll be damned if he doesn't take his time to enjoy and treasure this moment. This sour less moment, which, unlike yesterday morning, won't be filled with stupid excuses or awkward looks and tentative touches.

There's nothing tentative in the roaming of his hand on her bareback.

Harvey's getting lost in the feeling of her skin under his palms once again when Donna stirs, slowly opening her hazels to him. Harvey sees her confusion for a second, sees her trying to register where she is, only to smile broadly when the memories flow through her brain.

Donna's heart explodes in her chest, beating loudly, so loudly, as loudly as her love for the sight she wakes up to. She almost can't register it, has to cup Harvey's face with her hand and touch him, him, and his five o'clock shadow to make sure everything is reality.

Her thumb journeys across his cheekbone, and it's the most wonderful adventure.

"Good morning," Harvey says, kissing her.

"Morning," Donna greets back. "So, this happened."

"Yes," Harvey agrees with his smile, "And let me say this-"

"Is the best sex you've ever had?" Donna quips.

"Well, I was going to say that I'm glad it happened," he starts. And then, "But this works too, yeah." He's too ecstatic to deny her a truth she already knows anyway.

She's glad too, so she kisses him deeply, savoring the taste of his lips against hers. It's just enough to steal a groan from him, enough for her to let go of his lower lip to suck on the top one.

Harvey rolls on top of her, not breaking their kiss that is growing more and more sensual and sexual by the seconds, his hands on a mission of their own near her breasts.

He's touching but not grabbing yet, and he thinks Donna does have a thing for morning sex because he already senses her hips moving under him, restless. He avoids gluing his own to her heat, well aware that if his already hard erection comes into contact with her arousal, he won't be able to resist long before engulfing her. But it's becoming a real struggle when her nails dig crescent marks on his ass, forcing his flesh on hers.

Donna is seconds away from winning when they're rudely interrupted by loud knocks echoing through the apartment.

"Hmmm, ignore it," Harvey mumbles into her neck and resumes sucking on the soft freckles he finds there.

Donna lets out a loud moan when she feels expert fingers teasing her oh so sensitive nipple, but it isn't loud enough to cover the sound of the knocks attacking the door again.

"I'm afraid we're gonna have to wait, mister," Donna whispers on his lips, gently pushing him with a hand on his chest.

"I've waited thirteen years to do you. I think that's long enough," Harvey claims and kisses her with more fervor, hoping to get her to agree.

"You've had me not five hours ago."

"And?"

She laughs in the kiss, chuckles at his impatience and his words, and although she can't blame his lack of patience, Donna also knows that from now on, they have the rest of their lives to _do _each other, and she'd somewhat not be interrupted once again while doing so.

"Harvey," she says in a quiet voice, "Trust me when I say I want this as much as you do. But I'd rather have sex with you with no one banging on your door."

"You're right," Harvey sighs and rolls off of her, sitting up on the bed and trying to locate where the hell his boxers landed last night. "Who can it be anyway?"

He spots his boxers and shorts on the steps of his bedroom, gets up, and puts them on, shouting a"Coming" to the incessant barging taking place on his entrance door.

Harvey swings the door open, and the look of surprise is quickly replaced by a welcoming grin when he sees the puppy and his wife on his doorstep.

"Mike, Rachel, what are you doing here?"

.

.

Harvey opens the door.

_Only _Harvey opens it, and it takes Mike and Rachel a few seconds to register that there isn't indeed, by any means, a redhead strutting behind the lawyer.

Harvey asks his question, and his amused voice breaks the dizzy spell the young couple is under.

"Why are you not handcuffed?" Mike asks, surprised.

Harvey shrugs his shoulders, almost proud of the confusion he just created, and answers smugly, "I asked first."

The pompous answer makes Mike puffs, and Rachel steps in, "We came to tell you where we hid the key. We forgot to send you the text last night." She isn't looking at Harvey while she speaks, her eyes frantically trying to see past him inside the condo.

"But I see that we didn't need to get into such troubles," Mike goes on. "Why didn't we need to?"

The kid sounds desperate. It's sweet.

Harvey takes a deep breath, annoyed by his protégé's question. Seriously, the child's supposed to be all grown up by now. He shouldn't need to be explained why the sky is blue. It makes Harvey doubt the parenting skills he and Donna have. "You don't need to tell us where the keys are because we found the keys, you dummies."

Mike O's his mouth, realizing how stupid the question was in the first place.

"Really, Mike, a _pen jar_?"

Mike hisses, offended.

"Where's Donna?" Rachel blurts, asking what's bugging her since Harvey opened the door.

"She's -"

"Harvey, who is - Oh hey guys!"

" - here."

Three pairs of eyes see the redhead walking towards them, dressed with Harvey's shirt, male boxers, and a smile. Her hair is deliciously messed up, and her eyes give off the kind of glow that Louis would tea for.

She isn't remotely sorry for her gear, not the least ashamed of her apparel, and the young couple couldn't tell which is dazzling them the most; their friends without handcuffs or Donna casually wearing Harvey's shirt.

"Donna… Hi," Mike babbles after a moment of surprise.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the airport now?"

"They came by for the keys," Harvey informs.

"Oh! Well, we found 'em."

"We know," Rachel says, not blinking an eyelid as she stares at the redhead.

"Then, what are you all still doing here?" Donna notes as she gestures for their friends to enter the condo, "Please, come in. I've made some coffee."

Harvey gives her a look that shows all his annoyance at her invitation, _because why invite them for breakfast when they could be in bed? _And she answers with a chastising smile and wink, a silent promise that she'll make it up to him.

Mike and Rachel follow her inside to the kitchen, where Donna indeed has freshly brewed coffee inside the french press. In a silence skimming the religious kind, Mike and Rachel sit on the stools adorning the kitchen counter, while Harvey goes to the cupboard above the stove to grab mugs for the four of them. He passes them to Donna smoothly, and she fills them with the hot beverage.

Mike and Rachel look at each other, utterly perplexed by the scene that is scrolling before them. It feels so homey and natural, and yet all of it is odd, as seeing Donna serving them coffee in Harvey's condo, in Harvey's _shirt_, should somehow feel wrong. But it doesn't, and both their brains are short-circuited from all the information their eyes are sending that they're not sure to believe anything they see anymore.

Rachel thanks Donna for the coffee, and Mike takes a sip of his own, asking, "How did you manage to find it?"

Harvey almost chokes on his drink when he hears the question, the memories of Donna sending all his desk to the floor, flooding his mind. He takes a quick glance at his girlfriend - _girlfriend, holy shit _\- and he knows she's trying to keep her composure, by the way, her shoulder tense, but deep down, he knows she's as faltered as him.

"I made the jar fall last night," Donna explains. Vague, but efficient enough.

It makes Rachel ticks, though, her eyebrows raising. "Last night…?"

"Yeah, we were just starting dinner," the redhead continues.

Mike picks up on his wife's reflection and inquires, "If you removed the handcuffs yesterday _night_, why is Donna still at your condo this _morning_?"

Donna tries to fight the malicious smile that threatens to erupt on her face, but she loses the battle, and the grin landing on her lips could be easily placed on a child's, caught with the hand in a cookie jar. She bites them in retaliation and drops her down in the hopes of covering a bit of the blush she feels creeping her cheeks.

Harvey, on the other hand, is done hiding. He smugly pushes his chest forward and walks to Donna near the kitchen counter. He feels like a peacock showing off his feathers when he softly lands a hand on her waist, pushing her to him in front of their friends.

"Come on, Mike. I know you can do the maths," he dares.

Rachel is the first to react to the affirmation Harvey just gave them. Her body transcended by joy, she jumps out of the stool and rushes to Donna, taking her friend in a tight embrace. "Oh my God, you guys, I'm so happy for you!" She says with genuine care.

"Thanks, Rach."

Mike follows her and brings Harvey in a friendly hug, the quick slap on his shoulder giving away how proud he is of his mentor for finally going after the right woman. "It was about damn time you both got those big heads out of your asses," his tone joyful.

"Yeah," Harvey chuckles but agrees, "It really was."

The four of them go on with their breakfast in a childish excitement, savoring the last moment the four of them have together before Mike and Rachel go back to Seattle. It's also the first moments they have as two _official _couples, and Donna would lie if she said it somehow feels different. It doesn't, not really.

It's still Mike making age-centered jokes, Harvey responding in movie quotes, and Donna and Rachel mocking them for their behavior. But somehow, it's better, evolved because now she gets to touch and kiss Harvey for the sole reason that she wants to.

And it feels good to be able to act like she feels she was always meant to but couldn't for a decade because rules and walls were standing in her way. Now she can just _be _with Harvey, and the weight of the world just got lifted off of her back.

The coffee is all drunk now, and Mike and Rachel need to get going if they don't want to be late to catch their flight. They're on the verge of leaving, saying their final goodbyes with the promise to organize a well overdue double date weekend soon, when Rachel asks, "Oh, and do you want us to give the handcuffs back to Louis?"

"Oh, hum. That's sweet to ask, but-" Donna starts.

"We wouldn't want to impose and-"

"We'll give them back later."

"We'll do it, don't worry."

"Don't go to the firm just for that."

"Yeah, it's stupid. We can do it."

"Oh," the brunette cuts their babbling with a wave of her hand, "You wouldn't impose at all. We need to pass by the frim for my father anyway."

Donna and Harvey's embarrassed selves are saved by Mike when he calls for his wife from the elevator, "Rachel, they wanna keep the handcuffs. They also wanna be left alone to have sex all day. So be nice and say goodbye, we're gonna be late otherwise."

Which eyes grow bigger at Mike's bluntness, his wife's or his friend's, no one knows, but it does make Rachel leave with an O on her lips and a wink at Donna.

Yeah, they're going to keep the handcuffs. They can always buy new ones for Louis.

.

.

The handcuffs are nicely stored on the bedside table tonight. He doesn't need them to get her to stay anymore.

The truth is, he didn't really need them in the first place.

Harvey fell in love with Donna a long time ago, and he's coming to realize that his love for her has always been the only key he needed to get her never to leave him. Not the key to his condo or the key to a stupid pair of handcuffs, no. The honesty of loving her has always been enough.

Harvey fell in love with Donna a long time ago, like he really _did fall in love_ with her, because she gets him and sees him more than anyone he ever met. And he knows she'll always be the one who makes him smile at his saddest and cries tears of joy at his happiest. He has seen millions of faces, millions of different faces, but she's _the one. _

Before her, Harvey only ever thought about love as this losing prize of life. From hurt child to bitter adult, he ever envisioned that loving someone only meant losing the _trust _he had in them, it only meant losing a piece of himself in them, and it only meant losing _them _in the end.

_Loving_ Donna has been an analogy of _losing_ her for thirteen years.

And Harvey could never allow himself to lose Donna no more than he could ever forget her.

But he was wrong. Now, with her in his arms, he sees how wrong he was.

Because Love is not a contest.

Love is this quiet, so quiet voice murmured in your partner's ear as you make them come with a cry of pleasure. It's this invisible thread of calm that connects the two of you, even when everything is chaos when things are falling apart.

Love stays with you.

That stays with you.

Donna stays with him.

Harvey fell in love with Donna thirteen years ago, and during all this time, he didn't get it. He didn't get how loving someone isn't a race against time and how love could face the bottomless ocean of temporal length and not be swamped by the neverending_ tic toc _of the clock.

He was afraid, downright panicked by the thought only. Still, the years passed, and his love for Donna only grew stronger and broader until he, himself, got completely overwhelmed by it, and the fear of an ending love morphed into the fear of not having enough moments to show Donna that she means forever to him.

And now that he does show her, and that Donna knows she's the most important person he has ever loved, he realizes that being scared in the first place is hopeless. Harvey understands why being frightened is idle and stupid because the moments they share, those little infinities belonging only to the two of them, aren't moments _in time_. They are not a bone that will reset.

_No, it's more. It's so much more. _

Harvey's been touched by something chronic, something incurable.

It's not fatal, but sometimes it feels like it could be.

He's been graced with Donna's love, and he sees the infinity sign being drawn on his hand and because he knows her gaze can bend time, he's not scared of time anymore.

_Their wrists might be free, but their hearts are well indeed tied together forever._

* * *

Well well, where to begin…

First, I want to say thank you to all of you who read, reviewed, DMed me about this story. Your response to it is incredible and I hope this chapter has ended it rightly. Thanks for putting up with this story a thousand times.

_No better way for me to say goodbye to the Darvey fandom than with this fic, which will likely be my last._

_Darvey fandom, it has been a fun year, and a fine ride._

_Wish you all the best, _

\- _Fran._


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